The Silence of the Drums
by Vodatt
Summary: Gifted with a new sense of clarity after the cessation of the incessant drumming that has plagued his life, the Master returns as, literally, a new man. But has he truly shed himself of his madness? And how did he survive the events of the End of Time?
1. Chapter 1

The man who sat at the freshly polished antiquate oaken desk could not be a day older than twenty. Perhaps, at a lengthy push, twenty one. With a mischievous grin and a roughish twinkle in his milky, baby blue eyes he had Mr. Roy Harris quite frankly bemused by his very presence in the safety deposit bank.

It was a bank which, in its entirety, restricted its clientèle to the absurdly rich and illustriously powerful. Both of these requirements all but ensured that any custom which the bank saw was comprised of either elderly businessmen or politicians and their descendants. This... Boy met neither of the latter two expectations.

Which is precisely the reason which the man was scrutinised so thoroughly as he drummed his fingers softly on the desk.

He had long, clean hair, caught somewhere between blonde and brown. It was carefully brushed out of his wide and wild eyes, though its position was precarious, it seemed as if the slightest movement would cause his hair to fall and cover them.

A days worth of stubble covered the lower half of his face, though strangely it seemed to grant him a certain roughish style rather than simply making him look lazy or dirty.

His clothes were expensive, that could be reasoned on even a cursory glance. The suit was black, double breasted, and tightly fitted. The shirt was also black, with ornate gold cuff links visible every time the gentleman lifted his arm off the desk, even momentarily. His tie was crimson, and clearly silk. Curiously, in spite of his highly formal suit he wore a pair of garish red trainers, which appeared to match his tie in colour nicely, but instantly threw a traditional, conservative dresser such as Mr. Harris off guard.

"And your name is... Roald Haxons you say sir?" Harris prompted after roughly clearing his throat. His voice betrayed his scepticism regarding the young man's claim. The man calling himself Haxons merely smiled.

As woefully fat man, Mr. Harris was clearly suffering from the lack of adequate air conditioning in the large lavish building. The younger was clearly enjoying seeing his apparent elder in the state of discomfort.

After an awkward pause of several seconds, the young man spoke, withdrawing from the inner pocket of his extravagant suit a small object which Harris could not fully see. "Indeed I am my good man, and I have the papers to prove it."

Before any objections could be raised, the young man tossed a small leather wallet on to the desk. The grin widened as the fat man read the contents. The man, appearing to have been confirmed as Roald Haxons by the suddenly enthusiastic demeanour of Harris, leant back contentedly in the lush leather chair.

"Now, may I see my vault?" The young man asked happily, bounding suddenly out of the seat with frightening enthusiasm. Harris, taken aback by the sudden and erratic movements of his customer, saw it prudent to leave after wiping the sweat off of his brow with a stylishly fancy handkerchief and passing a card key to his antagonist.

Snatching the wallet off of the table, the young man strolled casually down the hallway, the insane grin now as wide as it was physically possible for it to be.

After several seconds of walking, humming a melodic song to himself as he did so, the young man reached his destination.

Waving cheerily to the stone-faced security guard who possessed the second key card, the man slid his half into the the key reader. A split second later, the guard followed suit.

It took several moments for the vault to open fully. When it finally did, the young man let out an uncontrollable, maniac laugh.

"Finally." He breathed as he stepped inside the great room. Once inside, the door began the arduous process of closing.

Savouring the moment, the man took a long, deep breath before surveying his surroundings. The high security vault was filled with nothing more than a random collection of junk.

Or at least that is how it appeared to the untrained eye.

His face now entirely serious, the young man marched purposefully over to the corner of the room, where he snatched up a small, light brown object.

Muttering incoherently to himself, the man then began to pick up more random objects from around the room. Finally, when satisfied, he began his task.

"Stratify the plasmic shell... Modifying dimensional stabilisers... Haha!"

Finally, with the work complete, the man placed the brown object onto the makeshift creation. Biting his lower lip in anticipation, the youth slowly reached out and pressed a large red button on the assembled machine.

"Ooh! Still a stickler for drama I guess!" He bellowed heartily to himself as the machine sprung into life. Humming loudly, wisps of clear white lightning began to circle the object, causing a transformation in the little object.

The change was far from sudden, but it was certainly noticeable. The thing in the centre of the machine began to grow at an exponential rate. Pallid streaks of lightning shot out of it, barely missing the man, who did not seem at all phased by its presence.

Laughing insanely, he grabbed the object from the machine and tossed it calmly into the air. In a sudden flash, it was gone.

In its place, falling to earth was a large metal box. Eyes wide and wild, manic laughter still billowing forth, the man began to observe his creation.

It appeared simple. The object was around five feet in height, made of steel and entirely plain. The object was an abnormally large safety deposit box. Breathing heavily with pure excitement, the man pulled open the door to the box and punched the air with sheer joy. Rubbing his hands together, he stepped inside the box and began to look around.

The box was absurdly larger on the inside, though the man did not seem at all surprised by this. The walls of the interior, unlike that of the exterior, appeared to be composed of some strange kind of coral, covered in embellished roundels. Gargantuan pillars extended to the high roof. The floor was made of a mesh of a curious, iron-like metal.

Despite the wonders of the room, all paled in comparison to the magnificent object in the centre of the room. A great console, with a massive tube in the centre extending all the way to the roof. Around the tube, extending from the ground, was a control panel, with an obscene number of buttons and switches.

Basking momentarily in the green glow of the room, the man, in another of his erratic and ludicrously fast movements, leapt forwards, landing right in front of the circular console. Clapping his hands together with unrestrained glee, he began flipping switches in a seemingly random order and pressing any button which interested him, however briefly.

After several seconds of doing such, he twirled himself around and began to rub his hands together once more.

"Oh yes! Fully functioning, ready for anything... Haha! Even the chameleon circuit is working at maximum capacity, take that Doctor!"

Like a small child, the man gleefully began to spin a small disk which protruded from the console. Holding his breath, he closed his eyes and grabbed a lever. Enjoying the smooth feel of the bar, he tightened his grip before pulling it down, as hard as he could, to the floor.

Inside the vault, the box began to fade, an unbearably loud humming noise following with it. After several seconds, it disappeared entirely, with no evidence that it had ever existed. The room, save for the makeshift machine and the other pieces of assorted junk was all that remained to suggest that the room had ever been used.


	2. Chapter 2

Ten thousand years later, and a million miles away, were three others inside a blue box, which like the aforementioned was ridiculously larger on the inside.

Unlike the nigh-living interior of the other however, this machine was clearly mechanical, and at first glance, far larger than its counterpart. Once more, the room was dominated by the console in the centre. Roundels perforated the orange walls. The floor was made of clear glass, through which the new Mrs. Amy Williams observed a smiling man who was wearing a very silly top hat.

"Look Doctor, I'll admit that I do quite like the braces. And I can just about live with the bow-tie. But... That hat... I thought you would have got the message after River blew up that stupid fez!"

The man in the hat simply cocked his head and gave her a cheery wave before stepping out of sight to fiddle with some wires, as was his custom.

Rolling her eyes, Amy folded her arms and marched over to her new husband, Rory. He meekly shrugged as she approached.

"When he said he would take us to Barcelona for our honeymoon I didn't expect a planet... Mind you, when he said honeymoon I didn't expect him to follow us around the whole time either... I thought he had that Orient Express thing to take care of..."

Amy smiled at the moping blonde figure. She gave him a quick, silent hug before speaking.

"Time machine, Rory. Time machine. We can solve that problem any time we want."

"More like any time he wants..."

"I can still hear you both you know!" Came a voice from underneath the floor. Rory rolled his eyes.

"Shut up! You wear silly clothes!" Retorted Amy, hugging Rory close to her.

"Bow. Ties. Are. Cool."

"I. Meant. The. Hat!"

"That woman at the wedding said I looked good in my top hat!"

"Then wear it the next time you go to a wedding!"

Caught in the middle of yet another argument, Rory began to daydream, letting his mind wander miles away. Imagining what he thought his married life at this early stage would be like. Unsurprisingly, it was light years from the reality of life in the TARDIS.

"Fine!" The Doctor yelled, bounding his way up to the console. Expertly, he began to manipulate the control panel. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the panel, he winked to himself. He really did look damned good in a top hat.

"Twenty-ninth of July, nineteen eighty one! The wedding day of Charles, Prince of Wales and Dianne Spencer! Now can I keep the hat."

Amy, in mock frustration, growled and threw a hand up into the air.

"You always win, d-"

Her retort was cut short by a sudden burst of sparks flying from the console. A loud, gong like noise sounded throughout the room. The Doctor shook his head frantically and began to twist the zigzag plotter around. Clearly panicked, he barked at Amy.

"Amy! What does it say on the screen! The numbers!"

Instantly, she leapt to her feet and ran over to the large, brass screen. Pulling it down to eye level, she raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Err... Doctor, I don't think this can be right..." She quietly hazarded.

Sweat rolling down his brow, the Doctor cried out, louder and angrier this time; "What does it damned well say Amy?"

"They're all reading three thousand each Doctor... That... Isn't good, is it?"

The blood visibly drained from the Doctors face. He gulped and frowned before pulling on the plotter with even more aggression.

"That's impossible... You're right, it has to be a mistake..."

Suddenly, the time-rotor began to glow an eerie blue. Everyone present was thrown violently to the side. The control room of the TARDIS was thrown upside down before flipping right side up once more. The gong continued to sound.

"Doctor! What the hell is going on?" Screeched Amy as she got unsteadily to her feet. Rory was limping over to her, obviously in some kind of pain. The Doctor was flashing his sonic screwdriver in vain at the console screen.

"Three thousand... Ridiculous! No... It can't be..."

"What can't be!" Demanded Amy as Rory wrapped his arms around her.

The Doctor shook his head as he read the reading once more. The time-rotor continued to glow pale blue. Rubbing his face with his one free hand, he turned to the pair, his face a deathly white.

"Remember when you were trapped in the TARDIS Amy, and I was staying in that flat? You know I said that the man in the room upstairs was trying to build a TARDIS? That was a... A bit of an over simplification. That ship was primitive compared to this. It didn't even have a chameleon circuit, it only used a perception filter-"

Rory, looking awkward in his endearing way, raised his hand briefly. "Err... I thought our chameleon circuit was broken... Isn't that why it always looks like a police box?"

The Doctor blinked once. Then again. He glanced at Rory briefly, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. Amy laughed and smiled warmly at Rory.

"Yes... Well... The point is we have one. Broken or not. Anyway..." The Doctor began to count his fingers briefly. Once he reached the number six, he started talking again.

"That's what I was saying... It was a time ship, not a TARDIS. It takes a phenomenal amount of power to create the former, which is why it could stop you from landing Amy. The latter, on the other hand, takes so much power to create that the process could quite easily destroy the universe if the person making it doesn't know what he's doing."

Rory spoke again, more confidently this time. "And a reading of three thousand means that someone is trying to build a TARDIS, and we need to go and stop them before they cause the collapse of reality itself. Again."

Scowling, The Doctor shook his head. "No... A reading of three thousand on the TARDIS console means that someone _has _built a TARDIS, and that they clearly knew what they were doing about it because they _didn't _rip a whole in the fabric of the universe."

Now unsure of exactly what to say, Rory simply shrugged.

"Doctor... What's wrong with the TARDIS? Why is the middle thing blue? And what is that noise?"

"Cloister bell... It means we're all in horrible danger. And I don't know why the TARDIS is blue. Never been blue before. Except on the outside. And when I set it to be blue, but that was a long while back. And anyway, I didn't set to to be blue so I have no idea why it just decided to turn blue."

Mid-ramble, the Doctor had began to press buttons on the console.

"Something must be draining the power of the TARDIS. I need to get us to a refuelling station before we're cast into the void and die a million deaths."

Completely dumbfounded, yet harbouring a thousand questions, Amy and Rory stared at one another in a shocked silence as the TARDIS began to make its familiar take off noise before being forced to the ground as the room began to spin wildly.


	3. Chapter 3

"Amazing. Absolutely amazing." Said the young man as he clambered out of his recently materialised box. As soon as he stepped onto the concrete pavement, the silver safety deposit box shifted shape, taking the image of a large public rest room with an "Out of Order" sign dangling by a thread on the doorhandle.

"This rock is useful after all... Untempered, uncontrolled rift energy. And it's been active! Wondrous!"

After looking around at the city of Cardiff, the man turned to his machine. Everything had been so easy. In a few hours, his TARDIS would be fully charged and able to take him to any point in the universe, at any time he desired.

"And again he takes his place, as Lord and Master of all..."

Running his tongue over his teeth, the man re-entered his machine and began, for the first time, to properly examine his creation. His eyes were lit up in wonder as he ventured beyond the main console room and into the great corridor which led to the nigh never-ending staircase. Enthralled, he began to open the doors of the corridor at random, becoming gradually more and more disappointed to find that every single room was, at best Spartan and at worst bare.

Sighing quietly to himself, he began muttering to no one in particular;

"Fourteen million rooms to fill with possessions and only eleven lives to do it in... I wonder if The Doctor has managed it by this point..."

Slightly disheartened, the man returned to the main room of the TARDIS and began to read the power intake. It had already absorbed all the power it needed to work at maximum capacity for over a thousand years. The man scratched the back of his head and switched the main screen to a different channel. Realisation dawned. A sly smile crept across his face.

"Unrestrained.. Of course... With Torchwood gone the rift can billow out as much energy as it likes."

No longer feeling glum, the man examined his golden cuff links disinterestedly before beginning to type rapidly on a dirty yellow keyboard below the screen. As soon as his task was completed, he pressed a small blue button on the control panel. A slim mirror slid up through the floor.

"Now for a proper look... Oh my, don't you look young... And handsome too, very nice. Nose is a bit big, but still, you are perfection personified." He clapped his hands together and pressed the button again. The mirror slid back inside the floor.

Satisfied with his self-examination, the man began once more to fiddle with the console, though far less erratically than before. This time, every flip of a switch, every push of a button was meticulously timed and skilfully executed. When all was complete, his began to spin the disk on the console once again.

"You know," The man said to himself as he completed his task and wandered over to the torn leather couch next to the door of the TARDIS. On reaching it he allowed himself to sink into it, relishing the comfort. "I have a good feeling about this plan. For one thing, I'm not wearing a disguise. I think that's been my problem all these years, any time I am in disguise at the beginning of my plan, something goes horribly horribly wrong. This one should go quite well then..."

He looked around the empty room after the physical realisation that he was talking to himself struck. Not at all fazed by the recent revelation, continued his ramble.

"Okay." The man said, taking an odd oblong item out of his pocket. "Always keep a spare..." He muttered as he pointed the device at the time rotor. "The planet Kalaya, in their... Upper middle period, thank you."

The tip of the device flashed red. The lever from earlier pulled itself to the ground. The time rotor began to move, filling the room with a magnificent light. Then came a loud thud. The man took a moment to stretch before getting unhurriedly to his feet and stepping over to the door.

The wide grin returning to his face, the man brushed his hair out of his eyes, straightened his tie and brushed down his jacket before sliding the brass device back into his pocket. Then, he cracked his knuckles and opened the door, stepping into the new world on which he had landed.

He was in a cupboard. His TARDIS had changed into the form of a silvery-metal crate, an image of which the man made a mental note of.

History was about to be re-written. A thousand million years of species development was about to be sent spiralling in a wild and insane new direction. With the power of the TARDIS behind him, there was no way he could fail.

Straightening his back, drawing himself to his full height the man softly breathed four words. Four words that put his troubled conscience at perfect ease. Four words that reminded him of his station, of his destiny, of his birthright and power.

"I have that right."


	4. Chapter 4

A loud boom sounded in the other TARDIS as the machine landed, rather roughly, in what the Doctor had described as a 'refuelling station'. The cloister bell continued to sound out throughout the whole massive ship. The curious blue light continued to shine through the time rotor.

Amy was helped unsteadily to her feet by Rory, who himself appeared to be very much off balance. The Doctor had managed to avoid falling over by hugging the time rotor tightly, though his hat had fallen off due to the momentum of the far from perfect landing. Amy, though still slightly disorientated, laughed as she saw it tumble down the stairs and roll over to the door.

"Okay then." Said the Doctor, opening his eyes and letting go of his tight grip on the time-rotor. "Okay."

"Sorry Doctor, but the horrible, we're all going to die gong thing is still going, the TARDIS is still blue and we have no idea where we are, what exactly is 'Okay' about this situation?" Demanded Amy, stamping her foot to the ground. Rory, allowed himself a brief grimace and took a single step backwards.

"Well, there are a few things that are okay. I know where we are, anyway. And if I'm right, and frankly, I always am, the bell should stop any second and the TARDIS light should return to normal as soon as I press this button."

As soon as he had finished speaking, as promised, the cloister bell stopped. The Doctor gave Amy and Rory the thumbs up, then pressed the button he had previously designated. Sure enough, the curious blue colour of the time-rotor faded back to its normal pallid blend of green and white.

"There. Refuelled. Back to normality."

As he spoke, the Doctor twisted the screen around to face him.

"All _five-thousands? _That is... Right, a good step away from normality then. A very good step away indeed. Right. Someone has built a fully functional TARDIS, charged it up using the power of the rift and is now utilising its connection to the Eye of Harmony to radically alter time on an insanely massive scale. Who could do that?"

"The Daleks?" Amy hazarded, trying in vain to make herself feel less superfluous. The Doctors scoff and dismissive shake of the head instantly dispelled any notion that she had even so much as contributed, and managed to make her feel useless as well as unnecessary.

"When it was at three thousand I could maybe believe it was the daleks. But five thousand is beyond even their reach. Only-"

He stopped mid-sentence and ran a hand down his face. The blood had not yet returned to his cheeks, he was still as pale as when the numbers had first been read. Whatever he had figured out had managed to turn him a putrid shade of green.

Standing in abject horror, the Doctor looked at the screen once more. Eyes wide in terror, he flipped a switch on the side of the monitor. The screen went blank for a split second, before springing back to life. Instead of numbers flashing on the screen, a variety of words began to scroll downwards. Amy and Rory could neither translate nor comprehend them, despite their psychic link with the TARDIS. The Doctor on the other hand, understood the language fully. He felt bile rise in his throat. Terror clutched his heart tightly in its grasp. His knees weak, he fell to the ground, physically shaking. Both Amy and Rory rushed to his side. They each took one of his hands and squeezed. His eyes flitted between them, staring blankly at nothing, completely unseeing.

"They're dead, all of them, I sent them back into the Time War, _I _killed them, how can they be here, how did they return, they returned once but I stopped them I was born because I stopped them the only reason I am still here is because I stopped them and because he stopped Rassilon but it can't be him either because he used up all his life force doing that so he's dead so who can be doing this, why are they doing this, HOW ARE THEY DAMNED WELL DOING THIS!"

Towards the end of his nigh incoherent babbling, the Doctor had clambered to his feet. Punctuating the final words by punching a TARDIS pillar, he inhaled deeply as he gripped his injured hand.

"That was bloody stupid of me. Might have broken it. Probably did break it. Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway. The Time Lords have returned and they'll quite happily break the rest of me."

In deathly silence, he sat down on the steps leading down to the exit. Then, lifelessly, he fell against the stairs bannister and closed his eyes.

Amy and Rory locked eyes with one another. Both had witnessed the Doctor ramble many a time. Both had witnessed his fury and anger. But one thing they were not at all used to seeing, one thing that sent a shiver up both of their spines simultaneously. One thing which made them both genuinely afraid was the sight they were looking at now.

The Doctor in complete silence.

Rory stared at Amy. Amy stared at Rory. Both then looked at the unmoving figure of the man who was always so animated, so full of life.

Tentatively, Amy pulled the screen forwards to face herself and Rory. Rory narrowed his eyes as he looked at the unrecognisable characters and the strange language. Realising that he would not get a straight answer out of the Doctor at this time, he turned to his wife.

"Why isn't the TARDIS translating it for us? I thought it did that with every language."

Amy remained silent as she examined the words on the screen. After several moments of contemplation, she spoke.

"I don't know, but I've definitely saw this language before. Is it... Is it your own language Doctor? Old High Gallifreyian? The 'lost language of the Time Lords'?"

The Doctor nodded, though he did not get up.

"I'm sorry." He said, quite simply. I am so very, very sorry Pond. Pond's."

Rory opened his mouth to object. Amy raised a hand to silence him.

"What does it say? Is it from River? Doctor, what's wrong?"

The Doctor appeared pensive, staring intently at the white doors leading out of the TARDIS. Suddenly seeming much older than his outward appearance led one to assume, he turned slowly to face both of his companions.

"It's not from River." He said plainly. "If only it were."

The second sentence was short, simple and drenched in bitterness. The eyes of the Doctor continued to betray his fear.

Rory, ever the pragmatist, decided to pitch in again. "Doctor, I'm sure whatever is going on is really, _really, _bad and all... But can I just ask, where exactly are we just now?"

Genuinely taken aback by the simplicity of the question, the Doctor appeared bemused briefly before answering.

"Oh, yes, err... We're in Cardiff. 2014. Refuelled the TARDIS using the energy of a tear in reality. We call it a rift."

Amy smiled at Rory. This was a more familiar Doctor, though he still appeared visibly shaken. Rory winked at her.

"Cardiff? You stopped to refuel your magical, time, dimension and space jumping box in Cardiff?"

"Well it's better than where you live! Does Leadworth even have a petrol station?"

"We live in _Upper_ Leadworth... And no... No it doesn't actually..."

"Hah! So, what was the panic about again? Oh yes, I'm going to die horribly. Magnificent."

Rory's jaw literally dropped. Amy screeched a high pitched "What!" which, if it didn't hurt one's ears so much one would assume only dogs could hear due to the ludicrous pitch.

"Well, it's two steps better than all of us dying horribly anyway." The Doctor said in a clearly false cheerful voice, a sardonic grin that was half a movement away from becoming a vile grimace on his face. Remaining unmoving on the step, he took his sonic screwdriver out of the pocket of his tweed jacket and began to toss it from hand to hand.

"It's the Time Lords. I should have known as soon as I saw the readings. The Time Lords have clawed their way out of the Time War and are trying to re-establish themselves once more. And they'll start by killing me."

Bemused, Amy sat down beside him why Rory continued to read the unintelligible writing on the screen. Her nerves shot, Amy pulled on her bright red hair anxiously as she spoke;

"But Doctor, the Time Lords are your people? Why would they kill you? Isn't it a good thing that they're coming back?"

The Doctor simply shook his head. "I destroyed them. In the last days of the Time War I used the moment to kill them all, along with the Daleks. In that instant I wiped out the horrors of the war. The war became Time-Locked, an unalterable, fixed point in time and space. Not even the TARDIS can get there."

"So, if they're dead or sealed in a war or whatever, how can they be building TARDIS'es?"

"They tried to escape once before. I stopped them, but I knew that they would keep trying. A time lock won't stop them. They created time locks! And of course, they have a hundred thousand people as clever as me working on it in their final hours. The final hours that they relive over and over again. They must have found a way through... But how?"

"Well, you could try reading the note they left you for starters?" Interjected Rory, his arms folded and his back arched. The Doctor and Amy digested this.

"He has a point." Amy said simply.


	5. Chapter 5

One hundred years after the man in the portaloo landed, the planet of Kalaya was a radically different place.

The sky was now a burnt orange, and cast an amber tint on everything on the planets surface. The grass, which had been at one time blue, had been turned a deep red by artificial means. A vast dome had been constructed around where the TARDIS first landed, with the interior replicating the far larger and much more ostentatious citadel of the Time Lords on Gallifrey.

In the grand chamber of the faux citadel, the young man in the black suit sat on a great and lavish throne, unaged after one hundred years, all but indistinguishable from his century younger self.

Saving himself, the throne room was entirely unoccupied. Breaking the silence, the man tapped his fingers on the marble throne, in a familiar rhythm of four.

His hands clasped together, leaning forward in the seat, he found himself truly alone with his thoughts. He welcomed the period of reflection and contemplation.

_The silence. The deafening silence which resounds throughout everything. I oft wondered what I would be, if not for the never-ending drums. This is the answer. I am more powerful than ever before! I can finally use my intellect to its full potential! Gallifrey reborn, in my image..._

Feeling a surge of power, and relishing it, the man hesitated before placing his hand on the marble arm rest of the throne. With his other hand, he pushed down hard on a round blue button. The titanic wooden doors at the opposite end of the hall swung open. Across the regally decorated floor, three native Kalyans marched towards the man on the throne. A strange species, the Kalayans resembled lizards, though certainly not lizards of the earth-bound variety.

Each was around four feet in height, though they were all crouched over. They had six appendages, though they were quadrupedal, using the elongated mid-limbs which extended from their torso to balance their weight. Their hind legs were far shorter, yet densely muscular.

The man beamed cheerfully as they approached. Each newcomer saluted him in succession. He allowed himself to momentarily take pleasure in the feeling of superiority he experienced before becoming strictly professional.

Staring into the eyes of the Kalayan in the centre of the trio, the man spoke in a hypnotising, melodic voice: "How goes the construction?"

The addressed Kalayan bowed its snake-like head before replying.

"My Master, the construction of the Prydonian Academy has been completed, with the Patrex and Acralian Academies expecting to see their completion come the end of the week. We have redoubled our efforts in the creation of the Death Zone, it should not be long until the arena is consummate.

"You have done well Valdash. Your Master thanks you for your dedication and loyalty."

While the man spoke, his thoughts followed an entirely different train than his words.

_Spineless coward. Traitor to your own people. Collaborating with anyone and doing anything that will benefit you at the expense of your culture, your planet. I look forward to disposing of you once your purpose is through._

Now standing, towering over the far shorter collaborators, the man retrieved a small key from his jacket pocket. Standing with regal grace, he flipped a switch on the left arm rest of the throne. With booming authority, he spoke, addressing every single citizen on the planet.

"Your Lord and Master is pleased with the progress of your work thus far, yet still feels the need to remind you of exactly what will happen should said progress lapse, or if you invoke my displeasure in any other way."

As the trio watched in horror, the man pulled open a hidden door in one of the high stone pillars of the room. He took a deep breath, then withdrew the bronze-coloured device from his pocket and pushed down hard on the button. From inside the pillar, a loud whirring sound could be heard. The orange sky turned dark, gathering grey clouds blocking out the sun which burned brightly. Lightning began to strike, the collaborators began to gradually back away from the man, who was presently licking his lips with anticipation.

Voice still booming, he continued to speak, his authoritative voice gradually working its way from a cultured, regal proclamation to the flame fuelled ramblings of a mad man.

"Now my subjects, if you will all please turn on your viewing screens you will each be reminded exactly why I am your Master!"

A great hole began to tear in the sky. On the ground below, in the work camps, in the construction sites, in their homes, on what remained of the street, the people of Kalaya cowered in fear. Once again, the wrath, the fury of their god was upon them, and there was nowhere to hide.

The voice of the unhinged, rambling madman continued to sound out as strange shapes began to come forward through the hole. Thousands and thousands poured out until the dark clouds were blotted out by their tiny shapes.

An enormous projected screen appeared suddenly behind the throne. The man watched as the black objects began to descend upon the planet.

Two of the black orbs appeared in a flash behind the man. Evidently anticipating them, he smiled and turned to them, giving each the slightest of bows.

Melodically, with a voice full of childlike wonder and innocence, the first of the orbs spoke: "_Truly you are a wonderful Master."_

_"We do like the Master. We always knew the Master would not forget us."_

"Ah my children. You really didn't think I would leave you to burn in the furnaces of the false Utopia, did you?"

The Master smiled and softly stroked the shell of his creation. The childlike cyborg laughed as if it was being tickled.

Speaking to the people of the planet once more, The Master took his place on the throne once more. The twisted smile still on his face, he crossed his legs and started to playfully toss his device into the air with one hand and catch it with the other.

"The birth of New Gallifrey is in its final stages. The Toclafane will be a constant presence from now on to supervise and ensure the smooth running of the operation. If they are displeased with your progress, or you begin to resist subjugation, I will become upset. And when the Master is upset... No, I'll just let you imagine what happens when the Master is upset."

Leaving his speech at that, he turned off the universal microphone and flailed an arm at Valdash to illustrate that his presence was no longer sought. Valdash was only too grateful to leave.

"Six months," the Master said plainly, taking from his pocket a small clear item, which was itself shining bright in the light. "In six months everything will have fallen into place."


	6. Chapter 6

"So, what does it say?" Amy asked, her tone holding a strange blend of curiosity and boredom. The Doctor had been staring at the screen for well over an hour by this point, and he showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Rory had began to doze silently in the corner.

For several seconds it appeared as if the Doctor had heard nothing. Then, without warning, he sprung to life, suddenly totally animated.

"That's what I'm still trying to find out. It's Gallifreyian. And encoded. And something that is encoded in Gallifreyian is very hard to decode indeed. However..."

He quickly took off his checked tweed jacket and threw it aside. It landed on one of the rails surrounding the TARDIS console before sliding off and landing on the floor below.

"I do that now when I'm thinking, I throw my jacket away, tell me that's a good thing to do Amelia Pond, tell me that that is an excellent thing to do. No, it's a stupid thing to do, my screwdriver is in one of the pockets. And so is my magnifying glass. Wait, I don't need either of them just now, I just need this;" he tapped the side of his head on the final word before turning back to the screen.

Eyes frantically scanning the writing over and over again, the Doctor waved his hands around in the air, making small circles with them. Without warning, he stopped and stood perfectly still.

"Do you want to know something nice Pond? I think I might just have figured out how to crack the code."

Dramatically, he pulled out a small mallet from under the console. With a cheeky grin, he hit the TARDIS with it, hard. The screen flickered and went blank, before suddenly springing to life again. The Doctor beamed as the letters and words began to unscramble themselves.

"Oh, I forgot how good it feels to do that. Actually, _I've _never done that before. Well, I have now. Anyway, ah yes."

Amy stared incredulously at the Doctor. Of course, she was totally used to his insane ramblings by this point. She knew all too well what nonsense he talked at times, remembering in particular the time he had claimed to have taught Elvis Presley how to play the guitar. What she was not used to seeing was the Doctor changing, so quickly, from his usual, harmlessly eccentric self to a terrified child and back again. It was, unnerving, to say the least. Her voice unsteady, she spoke;

"What did you just do Doctor?"

"What? Just now? I hit the TARDIS with a mallet."

"I saw that, I mean why? And how did it make the screen do that?"

"I was frustrated, needed to take it out on something. And I don't know why the screen did that, I was just venting my anger via the use of a hammer."

"And that just happened to break the code, did it?"

"Apparently so, yes. Now, to find out what it says..."

Now ignoring Amy, much to her annoyance, the Doctor began reading the now fathomable writing on the screen, the look on his face becoming gradually more and grave as he read on.

Arms folded, huffing to herself, Amy uttered one, simple syllable; "Well?"

"It's... Nonsense. It's a fairy tale. An old childhood fairy tale..."

Realisation dawned. Quietly, the Doctor spoke, his voice little more than a whisper.

"This is very not good. Not good plus very."

As Amy looked on, without a hint of understanding or comprehension in her eyes, the Doctor began to press buttons, seemingly at random, on the control panel. Anger and exasperation in his voice, he yelled at her to wake up Rory before the force of the landing caused him to fall and break his neck. Shocked by his aggression, Amy did so just as the TARDIS began to shake. Unlike the tremors of earlier which were extremely violent and unexpected, these were both anticipated and indicative of a surprisingly smooth landing.

There was the familiar landing noise, then a thud. The Doctor leapt over the railfrom which his jacket had fallen and snatched it up.

"Stay in the TARDIS, don't wander out of the TARDIS, don't wander away from the TARDIS and most certainly, whatever you do, do not eat the banana in the top drawer of the kitchen in the TARDIS!"

"Why not?" Hazarded Rory, yawning.

"Good source of potassium!" The Doctor yelled as he pulled open the white doors of the TARDIS and stepped out into the unknown.

"He always says that when bananas are brought up." Rory said, half to Amy and half to himself. Amy shot him a look. He groaned.

"You want us to follow him, don't you?"

Her look told him everything he needed to know.

"You know he's just manipulating you by playing to your curious nature, don't you?"

Her look told him that she was all too aware, but didn't particularly care.

"And you know that if you go out there, I'm going to come with you, don't you?"

"You don't have to."

"I will though."

Amy nodded. Silently, he took her hand and walked with her towards the door. Before they could open it, the Doctor's voice sounded out behind them, though it had a strangely robotic quality to it. Surprise is an inadequate word to describe the feeling which surged through the couple at that point. There may not be a word to properly describe what went through the minds of the human time travellers at that point.

_This is emergency program one._


	7. Chapter 7

Six months had passed since the Toclafane had returned permanently to Kalaya. For the past hundred years of the planets history, the childlike cyborgs had been a constant threat, but never a constant presence. Change was in the air.

No one alive, with the exception, of course, of the Master, was alive to remember what happened when they first descended from the sky, blasting and destroying everyone and everything that they could. Annihilating entire families, mocking the peoples of the world with their terrifying laughter. But everyone knew the story. Everyone knew what had happened that day.

As quickly as they had come, the black orbs were gone. In their place, standing in the royal palace of the capital city, was the strange creature in black. The creature who had smiled at the devastated world and addressed it with the most beautiful voice. The few surviving documented accounts of the event each profess a surprise that a sound of such beauty could be borne of such a disgusting creature, a hideous mammalian _thing. _Mammals, as a family, had long since been wiped out on the planet, and thus the man's very existence was almost as terrifying as the black death which had poured from the sky.

Though the voice was soft and melodic, the words could not be any more harsh and vile. The creature demanded and claimed dominion over all. He revealed that the evil creatures which poured from a hole above their world were under his control, and that if his wishes were not respected and obeyed, the creatures would return to decimate the remainder of the population. He spoke of the future, proclaiming that their planet, their wondrous Kalayan home world belonged to them no longer, and would be remembered through history as the New Gallifrey.

Only the greatest and most renowned scholars of their race knew the name. They were confused by the revelation, baffled even. They told the survivors that Gallifrey was the planet of the Time Lords, the oldest race in the entire universe. They told how it had burned in the final days of a great war, and that the proud and ancient race had been destroyed along with their enemies by an artefact of untold power. An artefact wielded by the man in the blue box.

He was the last of the Time Lords, the sole survivor of their race. The legend echoed throughout time itself. The Doctor in the TARDIS. Every suitably advanced species had heard the story. Everyone on Kalaya knew the name, if not its significance.

Only a few knew to fear it, in those early days. Now everyone felt the dreaded emotion clutch their hearts whenever the name was uttered.

The man, of course, did not call himself by his name when he addressed the world. No, always he would use his chosen title, a sign of his egocentric, megalomaniac madness. Always, he would call himself the Master.

For one hundred years he had ruled the world with an iron fist, subjugating any resistance by simply pushing a button on his magic wand. As soon he discovered, as he always would, any plans of revolt or revolution, or even simple strike action at the construction sites, his hideous humanoid face would appear on every visual screen on the planet and he would smile that evil and twisted smile that was so uniquely his.

Every time he would say something different. But it would always be said so pleasantly, so innocently. And then the sky would burn and the Toclafane would descend and there would be another pile of corpses to clean up.

And thus, over the decades the attempts to resist ceased. The Kalayans built his vision from the ground up, destroying twelve millennia of their peoples architecture and replacing it with the Masters vision. They were even forced to poison their planet with untold quantities of a disgusting chemical, lest they face his wrath.

And then the sky changed. Not into the darkness which they had learned to fear, but to a brilliant, sunburnt orange.

The Master had appeared on the screens that night, strangely frowning, looking lost in his own thoughts. He spoke to them quietly, his eyes misty and pensive.

The new amber light shining through the dome surrounding his citadel made the interior of the grand building look entirely different to that which they had become accustomed. It was, like the voice of the Master, beautiful.

"Gallifrey is rising. Soon, your world will be the most highly regarded planet in the entire universe, your people celebrated for their toil and sacrifice. But we are not done here, not nearly. For the reconstruction must continue. The Citadel was only the beginning. You, my people, must change the landscape of this world, raising up the more of the great buildings of old and returning the mountains of solace and solitude! And build a nice statue of me, too. Rassilon had lots. It's only fair."

The transmission was abruptly cut. The next morning, the Masters army of collaborators visited each of the camps in turn, providing every man woman and child with the tools they would apparently need to complete their assigned tasks.

For the next decade they worked tirelessly, still in fear of the black orbs that were never too far from their nightmares. The Master had looked upon his creation from high in the towers of the citadel, his hearts racing as he fully realised just how close to his goal he edged with each passing day.

When the sky blackened and the Toclafane returned, the people felt that their fears had been realised. Their tasks all but complete, they had outlived their use. The Time Lord had given them another speech, and as one the population cursed the name of the Doctor.

But on that day, the demons did not destroy, but merely hovered over the camps and occupied buildings of the Kalayans threateningly. Taunting them in their angelic voices.

As the Master sat on his throne he cast his mind back to that day, revelling in the memory of the sense of power he had felt. The ability to destroy an entire race with one simple command. No, more than that, the right. The might and the right to end the lives of millions was his as he sat simply on a chair, far removed from the carnage that such an order would cause.

As he drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the throne, he stared at the tiny item that rested in the palm of his free hand. Content, he closed his fist around it and slipped it back inside his pocket.

Six months had passed since the Toclafane had returned permanently to Kalaya. And that meant that the Doctor would have arrived.


	8. Chapter 8

A single tear rolled down the Doctors face as he heard the TARDIS de-materialise behind him. He did not dare to look behind him and see the empty space which his wonderful machine, his faithful companion once occupied. He did not allow his mind to wander onto thoughts of Amy and Rory, his friends. The couple with whom he was going to share the wonders of the universe, the secrets of reality. The most wondrous aspects of history and the most impossible, fantastic visions of the future.

With a quick shrug of the shoulders, he wiped the tear away and opened the door that stood before him. He was apparently in someone's unoccupied living room. Amber light shone through the open window, illuminating the assorted collection of sleeping bags and other makeshift beds that littered the floor. The walls were made of dirty steel, with ancient blast marks from laser weapons scattered randomly across them. The control panels used to open and close the doors had long since been destroyed, the great metal door leading into the hallway beyond the living room now permanently stuck in position, half closed, half open.

Carefully, he slipped over to the window and looked out. He was on the ground floor of a tower block of flats, outside of which was a deathly empty street. In the far distance, he could make out a very familiar shape. The citadel of the Time Lords.

Breathing heavily, he continued his observation. The grass which grew through the many cracks in the pavement and road outside was crimson. The few scattered trees planted seemingly at random throughout the street were beautiful, with shining silver leaves. And the sky was orange.

"Now that is strange, strange and bad, bad and strange..." he muttered to himself, cautiously stepping over the debris on the floor and gradually edging his way to the door. Before he could reach it however, two black orbs smashed through the window, a wide variety of weapons protruding from each.

From the moment he had read the ancient Gallifreyian fairy tale he knew exactly who and what he was dealing with. He understood exactly what was being done. And it terrified him. Looking out of the window only confirmed his fear. The appearance of the Toclafane barely even added it it.

The Master was here, and he was rebuilding the home of the Time Lords.

As he stared, unblinking, at the orbs the Doctor realised that normally at this point he would make a joke. He didn't know what kind of joke, or how he would deliver it, though he could guess the reaction he would get from the other occupants of the room. After nine hundred and seven years of phone box travel, one got used to ones jokes being ignored.

But now, there was no energy in the Doctor. No fight. He simply held up his hands in surrender.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? A big pair of balls? He had to put forward _some _kind of a witticism.

Thankfully, before he got the chance, the Toclafane spoke.

"_The Mister Master does wish that you would come visit"_

_"Oh he does so want that"_

Not allowing himself to show his inner turmoil, the Doctor summoned his best faux cheerful voice and retorted.

"I want doesn't get, didn't his mother ever tell him that?"

The spiked blades of the Toclafane whirred angrily. The Doctor, gradually feeling his burden of sadness being lifted and his usual self returning to the fore, lowered his hands and withdrew his sonic screwdriver from his pocket.

"Now, I know that a electrical surge of 58.5 kiloamperes, transferred charge 510 mega joules precisely will knock you two out of the sky. But I don't have a lightning bolt handy, so this will have to do!"

At the last word, he pointed the screwdriver at the pair and pressed down hard on the button. The tip flashed green and the claw of the device extended. Electrical energy began to encircle the two machines. The duo of cyborgs fell out of the sky, clanking loudly on the floor of the living room.

The Doctor appeared to be very much surprised that the Toclafane reacted in the way that they did. He held his hands in the air apologetically. "Oops, I didn't think that would actually work. I thought it would just annoy you both enough to make you go away for a bit. Oh well, onwards and upwards."

Slipping his screwdriver back inside his tweed jacket, the Doctor stepped out into the street, which was now bathed in a gentle red light from the setting sun.

Clearly, he was on Kalaya. The city was definitely Kalayian built. But everything was wrong. So very wrong. The taste of the air, the feel of the wind, the glow of the sun. Definitely the sky, but that was so obvious it barely merited a mention.

The streets were deserted. Completely deserted. It was a well known fact that Kalayan streets were never deserted, ever. Every city was like New York, never sleeping. Actually, now that the Doctor considered it, every Kalayan city was more like Las Vegas, always partying. They were known throughout the galaxy for their parties. And, as a fact, they were also very well known throughout the galaxy for not having hundreds of thousands of floating black orbs of death flying around high in their sky.

Strolling nonchalantly down the street, the Doctor contemplated the fact that the Master had already managed to do untold amounts of damage to the time-line. He had been here, on Kalaya, for a long time. With a sudden burst of movement, the Doctor ran over to one of the tenement buildings and slowly licked it.

The time-line had been digressing from the norm for one hundred years and eight months. It took some time for the revelation to sink in. The Master had been here for over a century.

He cursed himself. He should never have followed the co-ordinates at the end of the message. He had known it was a stupid idea at the time, but he did it anyway because he _was_ stupid. The idiotic, short sighted Doctor. Anger welled up inside him. He felt an uncanny urge to kick something, but managed to restrain himself. Violence would only attract the Toclafane.

He was part of events now, and the Master was clearly expecting him. Those Toclafane were waiting for his TARDIS to touch down. The changes forced upon time here were ridiculous, off the scale. Reminiscent of the changes the Master had managed to inflict upon the earth during the year that never was.

It was the scale of it all, quite simply. In a mere hundred years the Master had managed to recreate not just Gallifreyian architecture, out with the remaining cities, but even to change the colour of the sky, the entire shape of the planet.

Suddenly, as the Doctor moved away from the skyscraper, he heard the softest of sounds. The sound of a beating heart. No, two beating hearts. One two three four. One two three four.

The heart beat of a Time Lord.

It was the Masters work, the Doctor knew it. Biting his lip, he ignored it as best he could and marched onwards.


	9. Chapter 9

_Ah, yes, hold on a second._

The projection of the Doctor began to toy with his sonic screwdriver before speaking again.

"There, that's better," he said, his voice distinctly less robotic, yet his form just as ethereal and hollow. "I can't seem to get the hang of this. Well, I could before, but that was two lifetimes ago. Literally. Anyway, Pond, sorry, Ponds, the TARDIS is taking you both home. Emergency program one means that I'm facing an enemy that should never be allowed to get its hands on this machine."

"It's taking us _home!" _screeched Amy, marching towards the hologram threateningly. Rory covered his ears. The image of the Doctor took no notice and continued his speech regardless.

"Did she just shout at me Rory?" the projection asked cheerfully. "I bet she did. Well, she can shout away all she wants now because emergency program one also means that I'm dead, or about to die at any second with no possible chance of escape. Oh, should have introduced that fact a little softer probably. I may have just gone and upset you both..."

Upset would be an understatement. Rory's eyes widened in shock. Amy felt the anger flood out of her, with an unbearable sadness taking its place. The Doctor must have anticipated such a reaction as his hologram simply stood still, silently. After a while he simply whispered a quiet apology.

"Still, it's not like lying would help anyway, so all I have left to say is this; Amy, Rory, go into the room that has always been locked upstairs. It's a small farewell present for you both. All I ask in return is this, let the TARDIS die. Just leave it alone, and after the decades pass and it falls into neglect it will finally die in peace."

Rory was still standing rigidly, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide. Amy had pulled herself over to him and was burying her face in his chest, sobbing and whispering one word over and over.

"No no no no no no no..."

"No matter what happens, both of you have a wonderful life. Lead the life I could never have. Goodbye."

The hologram disappeared. The couple did not move from their spot. Rory swallowed the lump in his throat. Amy continued to sob uncontrollably.

The minutes that passed felt like hours. The hour that passed felt like a year. Still the couple did not move, until Rory spoke, his voice weak and cracked.

"So do we do as he says?"

Amy, who had long since ran out of tears, looked up at her husband, her usually pale face a deep red, her green eyes bloodshot. Unable to speak, she simply nodded once, her absolute heartbreak preventing her from exerting herself any more than that simple movement.

"Do you want to leave it a little while before we go upstairs?"

A shake of the head was the reply this time.

With heavy hearts, the pair began to ascend the stairs leading up into the seemingly endless corridor of the TARDIS. Outside their destination, Rory squeezed the hand of the love of his life hard. Lifeless, Amy did not respond.

Further disheartened, Rory pushed the door open. It was, for the first time since the pair had occupied the TARDIS, unlocked. Like scared children, they stepped inside.

The room was empty, save a large mahogany box in the centre of the room. From the outside, Rory could see no lock. Cautiously, practically dragging Amy's empty form with him, he placed his hand upon the lid.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, so slowly, he began to open it. A voice rang out behind him. Amy jumped back to life from the shock hope briefly flaring back into her eyes, Rory clutched his chest in fear, feeling no similar optimism.

"Oh dear, this means I'm dead, doesn't it? I'm not too fond of that. Hopefully it doesn't happen for a good while yet. Anyway, yes, this is why I'm here..."

"Just another projection..." Breathed Amy before screaming at the world. Rory winced.

"I've put a lot of money in that box. It's yours now. Think of it as... Life insurance at the bequest of your dear friend the Doctor. Remember what I said downstairs. Goodbye Ponds."

The projection disappeared. Amy fell to her knees. She tried to weep, but the tears wouldn't come, having long since run out.

Rory, far more pragmatically, reached into the box and pulled out a small note, as well as a plastic card. A bank card. Shrugging, he read the note aloud.

"I don't really know what is a lot of money and what isn't, so I just sonicked-"

Slightly puzzled, Rory looked up. "Sonicked? Is that a word?"

Getting no response from Amy, Rory frowned and continued to read.

"I just sonicked this bank card until I got bored. That probably means that neither of you will be strapped for cash again. Probably. Might just have broke it, I don't know, I haven't had time to try it yet. Anyway, it's the least I can do to say thank you for everything you have both done. Money isn't everything. To me, it was never anything. But it helps to have it by you. The number is _2541_. Thank you both again."

Unsure of what to say, Rory placed a hand on Amy's shoulder. Knowing that neither words nor money would be any use now, he remained silent, his first tear falling from his eye.


	10. Chapter 10

The Master observed the Doctors movements on the screen in his TARDIS, taking in the features of the latest incarnation of his foe. Youthful. Black hair. Clearly no concept of elegance, if the eccentric professor look revealed anything, though pondering the outfit of his enemies sixth incarnation the Master found it hard to believe that such a trait was _entirely _new.

He raised an eyebrow as, on the screen, the Doctor licked a wall. Disgusting. That _was_ new.

"Stay in the skies my children," he said into a tiny microphone that rested in the palm of his hand. "Let him pass through."

The Toclafane chorused a reply in the positive as one, unheard on he planet below. The Master softly drummed his hands on the TARDIS console, his eyes misty, his mind wandering far. He considered all that he had achieved. All that he continued to achieve with every passing second.

In a waking dream, he thought of all that he could accomplish once the final stage of his plan began. Plan began. He liked that. It drew an amused chuckle from him, before he returned to his visions of grandeur.

Only the gentle humming of the TARDIS broke the silence as the Master flicked a switch on the side of the screen. The image of the Doctor traversing through the street was replaced by white writing on a black screen. A trained eye would notice that the numbers in the top corner resembled the dating system of the New Byzantine calender, and that the rest of the digits marked out the projected flight pattern of a shuttle over the planet of Kalaya, with a red number indicating at which point the shuttle would be closest to the planets gravitational pull.

"Thirty minutes? Oh he's got plenty of time to arrive. I must say, I will be quite disappointed if this new Doctor can't make it here in _that_ wide a window of time."

Again realising that he was talking to himself, the Master shrugged and continued to work. Talking to himself was a forgiveable quirk that he had developed through his regeneration, and its existence could be considered entirely understandable. After all, as soon as his regeneration was complete he had found himself surrounded by nobody _but_ himself.

Oh, and he, of course, was the only intelligent conversationalist on this entire planet, so choosing to talk to himself over the idiotic drones and accursed cretins that were the Kalayan race was the most logical choice by far.

Feeling a buzz of excitement welling up inside him, the Master rubbed his hands together gleefully before, showing surprising strength, tearing off one of the metal gratings on the floor and jumping down into the floor beneath the console.

Smiling, he placed a hand upon the wall separating himself from the heart of the machine. Slowly, he ran his fingers down it, enjoying the feel of the organic technology.

Then, quite gently, he pulled free a piece of coral from the wall. It was small, brown and almost identical to the object from which the Master had grown his own TARDIS earlier.

"Perfect..." he sighed, holding the object up in the light. The object moved through the spectrum of colour as it bathed in the glow of the time-rotor. Sapphire blue turned to emerald green. Emerald green to topaz yellow.

The Master cupped his hands around it, his hearts racing. Biting his lower lip, he slipped the coral into his pocket and pulled himself out of the hole and back into the console room. After replacing the grate, he flipped the switch on the screen once more, intent on checking the progress of the Doctor.

His foe was alternating between a determined march, with his head bowed, in the direction of the citadel and random pauses at which he would dramatically begin to shout and scream at the sky. The Master smirked and began to wish that he had installed microphones as well as cameras on the Toclafane. Hearing, as well as seeing his old enemy furiously rant would be much more fun, though alas it was not to be.

Entertained though he was, the Master could not help but feel a slight pang of worry as he realised just how far the Doctor had to travel. He had laid his plans with a particular incarnation in mind The skinny one in the suit, specifically. This new one seemed to be wasting far too much time on miscellaneous endeavours such as the aforementioned shouting and occasional bouts of violence against inanimate objects. His predecessor would have bounded through the streets at an absolutely ridiculous pace to get to his destination. This one was just so... Methodical.

Inhaling deeply, he reminded himself just how foolproof the plan was. Even if the Doctor was a little late, things could still work out for the best. They may lose a bit of banter-time, but that hardly had any bearing on the ultimate outcome of the stratagem. Though it would be missed.

Standing tall, head held high, the Master turned away from the console and clambered out of his TARDIS, which was in the form of a pillar in the great throne room of the citadel.

The room was empty, and deathly silent. The Master ran his tongue over his teeth as he slowly and regally walked towards the throne. Sitting on that beautifully ornate chair always made the true feeling of power hit home.

Everything in the room was so still that even the simple artificial breeze which rustled the trees outside sounded deafening in comparison. And yet the Master still heard it. The rhythm of four. The heartbeat.

It was most unlike the drums which had plagued him throughout his life. It was far quieter, akin to an afterthought. And it could be silenced. A simple wish made the sound cease entirely, which certainly could not be said about the heavy beat of four which so many had dismissed at first glance as a symptom of madness.

He understood this noise though. Since the first time he had heard it he knew what it meant.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sound, casting his mind back to the first time he had heard it.

It had been on Earth. Moments after his regeneration. He remembered the familiar, angry, incessant drumming. It had been the first sound that his newly formed ears had heard.

And then he collapsed. Without a TARDIS to help with the regenerative process, his body was forced to shed the excess energy itself. He slept for hours, dreaming such horrific dreams.

He cast his mind back to the moment he awoke. He was in the same room that he had been when he regenerated. It was still unoccupied. He felt afraid, so afraid, because for the first time in his life there was no sound, no sound at all. The drums had ceased.

He held his head in his hands and wept, confused by the clarity he felt. Confused by the lack of the sound that was, while a burden, was always consistent. Always with him. It was, in a way, as if a friend had died.

Of course, this ludicrous opinion did not hold long, and barely any time passed between this incident and the feeling of unsurpassed joy which came after. He was free. All his life he had been diseased, yet now he was cured. It had finally stopped. His thoughts were clear, uninterrupted.

He had stolen an outfit from the house which he had occupied, and traversed the city of London, visiting the secret drop-off points which he had scattered around the city during his tenure as Harold Saxon. Collecting psychic paper, a copy of his laser screwdriver and most importantly, the piece of TARDIS coral.

As soon as his hands closed around the tiny brown object he heard it.

One two three four.

The colour had drained from his face.

One two three four.

Having just rid himself of his plague, he found himself with absolutely no desire to see it return.

But then, as he listened, he noticed the obvious differences. Then, focusing more, the more subtle differences were realised also.

He had sat in his secret drop off point in the London sewers for hours, simply thinking about the possibilities of what the sound could mean. He pondered significance of the heartbeat of four, raising and shooting down theories endlessly.

He had laughed for an age when he figured it out, sending the curious rats which had gathered around him scurrying away in fear. It was so obvious, so simple and so blatant that he almost wanted to curse himself for not seeing it instantly. Instead, he simply applauded his own brilliance, feeding his already gargantuan ego.

Now, as he sat in the world that he had created, far removed from that day, the Master smiled coldly as he thought how different things were now compared to then. Then, thoughts of the near future, and dreams of his completed plan firmly in mind, he allowed himself to laugh once more.


	11. Chapter 11

Everyone knew that the Doctor never left the citadel. Everyone knew that he always wore a black suit with a garish red tie. Everyone recognised his face.

So when the humanoid with long and interesting (to say the least) black hair burst haplessly into the workshop wearing a very odd outfit and introduced himself, quite happily and plainly, as the Doctor Halbrat VelGhadi became very much confused. Looking the new arrival up and down, he found that the cheery oddball before him resembled in no way the man that his people both hated and feared.

But then he remembered the legends, told to him by his father. The Time Lords were face-changers. The Doctor must have changed his form before coming here. Halbrat found himself all but overcome by a concentrated surge of nigh unrestrained rage, tempered only by a secondary sense of fear and shock.

The Doctor, seemingly oblivious to the white hot fury Halbrat was now feeling, began to talk, though perhaps to say he began to ramble would be a better description.

"Not in the mood for chit-chat? Well, I can understand that. Your sky has went and turned orange. Last time I was here it was green. It's supposed to be green at this point in time, no orange skies until, well ever on Kalaya," the Time Lord started. Halbrat, not paying any attention to what was being said, forced himself to hold back the urge to pounce on the creature before him and tear out its larynx. knowing full well the futility of such an endeavour. He would be blasted by the wand before he could get halfway across the room.

Understanding that he could not attack his most hated enemy, Halbrat settled for hissing furiously at him. It was a pointless action which only led to him becoming more infuriated, as the Doctor seemingly did not even acknowledge the noise.

"Okay, so, I need to get to the citadel over there and stop the Master from doing any more damage. Any ideas how I can do that Mr... Sorry, what was your name?"

Confusion temporarily overrode anger. Halbrat looked puzzled, which is quite an achievement for a snake-headed reptilian.

The Doctor was asking how to break into his own citadel to stop himself from doing damage to the planet. Though the anger continued to boil under the surface, Halbrat responded quite calmly, albeit coldly, to the latter question, telling the Time Lord his name. The man calling himself the Doctor clapped his hands together, positively radiating happiness.

"Good name, good name. Great name even. Hal_brat_ Vel_Ghadi," _The Doctor replied, placing emphasis on the final syllables of each word. "Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but I like it. Anyway Halbrat VelGhadi, I may need your help in getting to to the citadel. Now, I know I have done absolutely nothing to prove myself to you, but I am the only hope that your people have of seeing Kalaya returned to normality. I need your complete trust, I need to be able to understand that I may have to put my life in your hands."

He held out disgusting pink hand. Only four fingers and a thumb. Halbrat felt physically sickened by the alien in front of him. The Doctor spoke once more:

"Do you trust me?"

Totally taken aback by the final question, all arbitrary racism dissolved, the Kalayan took a step backwards and totally scrutinised the man claiming to be the Doctor.

Wearing heavy boots, turned up trousers, a bow tie and a tweed jacket he utterly lacked the elegance and grace displayed by the Doctor _he_ knew of. The Time Lords may be face changers, but surely they did not also change personality.

And the things he said, he seemed so honest, so genuine, that Halbrat could not help but feel like he wanted to impress the humanoid before him.

And yet...

The anger still boiled below the surface. The stench of death still hung heavy in the street. The demonic orbs still looked down upon the terrified natives, just waiting for that order to kill.

The Doctor in the citadel had killed so many. Destroyed so much. Replaced all that they knew and held dear with his own ideals. Claimed mastery over the entire planet. He was an imperial menace, callous to the core.

The Doctor that stood before him seemed entirely incapable of any such action. Yet in spite of this, Halbrat felt the anger boil to the surface. It was trickery, he decided. It was trickery and even if it killed him he was going to slay the Doctor while he had the chance.

"No."

The simple word caused the man in the tweed jacket considerable confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't trust you, _murderer!"_

On the final word, Halbrat made to leap forwards. The Doctor recoiled as the far smaller but undoubtedly stronger reptilian prepared to jump.

Bracing himself, the Doctor raised his arms as a paltry defence against the attack.

The attack that never came.

Before Halbrat VelGhadi could make his leap, one of the Toclafane whizzed through the still open workshop door and, without any ceremony, blasted him into atoms with its laser weapon. Only a small pile of smoking ash remained of the Kalayan.

The Doctor heard the noise and looked up in horror. Wordlessly, he fumbled around in his pocket, trying to draw his sonic screwdriver. Before he could get it out it, he heard the sound of the engines of a TARDIS. A great marble pillar materialised next to the cyborg. A hatched opened on the pillar, and the Master stepped gracefully into the workshop, smiling warmly at his old foe.

The Doctor looked upon the youthful face of his antagonist. A million questions waited impatiently at the back of his throat. Staring into the Master's eyes, which betrayed the age of their owner, he managed to speak a single word.

"How?"

The Master did not answer. His grin did not fade. He simply pointed at the hovering orb with a black gloved finger, and then at the Doctor.

The Toclafane fired its laser weapon again. This time the beam hit the Doctor square in the chest.


	12. Chapter 12

He awoke to the sound of footsteps on a marble floor. Leather soled shoes tapping against the cold hard ground. The Doctors eyes flickered open. The dark silhouette of a man was all his tired eyes could make out.

"It's the trasmat. Uncomfortable, isn't it?" said the shadow pleasantly. The Doctor did not recognise the voice, but he could hazard a guess as to who owned it. He tried to speak, but found that he lacked the energy to do even that. And that his mouth was bound with duct tape.

"You were taking far too long to get here, you were going to miss the main event! I must say I am most disappointed in your inability to focus on even the most simple tasks. I thought thirty minutes would be _more _than enough. How wrong I was."

The figure was coming into focus now. It was shaking its head sadly.

"Anyway, we have plenty of time to have a little chat where I tell you all my plans and let you think of a way to stop me. Hah. Wait, I've used that one before, haven't I? Damn."

The Master, for it was clear now that the figure was the Master, jokingly slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. The Doctor tried to move forwards, but found that his arms were cuffed, behind his back, around a pole. The Master seemed entertained by the effort.

"Ah, I love a captive audience. Of course, I have had one for over a hundred years now, but finally I have someone who is intelligent enough to recognise the beauty of my plan! I only wish you would have dressed better for the occasion. A bow tie? What were you thinking?"

A large screen descended behind the throne before which the Doctor was bound. A count down began on it. The Master clasped his hands together. Another of his precursors traits that had remained, an affinity for ticking clocks.

Suddenly becoming deadly serious, his face stoic, the Master opened the door to his TARDIS, while speaking ;

"Now Doctor. I hope you know that everything I said there was in jest. You see, I am a different man to the one you have always known now." he paused for thought. "Perhaps not always... You knew me before I was taken for my initiation. We were friends."

Pensively, the Master sat on one of the steps leading to his throne. Eyes misty, he continued to speak.

"We're the last Time Lords Doctor. The clarity I have felt since the cessation of the drums has given an opportunity to reflect upon this. And I have devised a solution."

The Doctor was puzzled, this wasn't like the Master he had known for nine centuries. The differences in character could not be explained away as having been lost in the regenerative process, he was far too different.

Exactly how the Master was here was a mystery though. The Doctor had watched as he was sucked into the Time War, back in the Naismith mansion.

That incident had seen him all but entirely shed his survivors guilt. He had been reminded, all throughout that horrible incident, exactly why he had been right all those lifetimes ago to use the moment. Why he had been right to destroy the Time Lords as well as the Daleks.

But such reflection was a digression, he turned his wandering attention back to the Master, who was studying him intently.

"When I regenerated Doctor, I shed my madness. I felt for the first time in my life the peace of silence. And finally, I found myself fully able to utilise my brilliance."

Egotism. That was more like it.

The Doctors eyes flitted down for the most fleeting of seconds. The Master took the hint and tore off the duct tape that silenced him. After stretching his jaw briefly, the Doctor spoke.

"Might not have been such a good idea y'know, if it's one thing this incarnation knows how to do, it's talk... Anyway, yes, where was I. Ah. Regeneration. How? Your body was born out of death, you said all it could do was die. Actually, further than that, I saw you get dragged into the Time War when the link was destroyed. I mean, I know you are damned good at avoiding death. Almost as good as the Daleks apparently. But still, how did you get out of that one?"

The Master laughed a booming and malicious laugh. Grinning widely, the pushed the tape back across the Doctors mouth and patted him gentle and patronisingly on the cheek.

"Really? You have to get me to spell it out to you? Did you drop a few hundred IQ points when you transformed into the nutty professor?"

The Master laughed and undid the Doctors bow tie, tossing it casually over his shoulder. The Doctor was horrified by the audacity, his eyes widened and his jaw struggled desperately against the duct tape.

"It was distracting. Anyway, yes, my regeneration. Far less miraculous than you think. Just remember that day Doctor. Think back. How many of me were there?"

The penny dropped. As would the Doctor's jaw have done had it not been taped shut.

"That's right. Six billion, six hundred and ninety seven million, two hundred and fifty four million and forty one of me and you really thought that not one of us regenerated?"

He laughed.

"Granted, it was difficult. I had to consume a vast number of my clones in order to gain the energy necessary to begin the process. But as soon as I had the energy stored, I changed. And became quite dapper and handsome I believe. But that is beside the point."

He sat down beside his oldest enemy, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"I know how we can do it Doctor. I know how we can bring Gallifrey back. I know how we can together rule all of time and space!"

Absolutely baffled, the Doctor stared at his foe incredulously. Did he really just say that? Was the Toclafane's transmat still messing around with his head?

"We can save the Time Lords Doctor. I built a TARDIS from a coral taken from yours during my time on Earth. I have yet another piece of coral here. We can use the machines to break the Time Lock Doctor. We can reach into the Time War and pull out our brethren!"

The Doctor shook his head rapidly. The Master obligingly tore off the duct tape.

"You're still insane! Can't you remember what happened when the Time Lords followed the link in your head? They would destroy everything!"

"Ah, blind as always to my genius. Again my old friend, you missed one key detail. We would not be travelling to the end of the war to save them, but rather, the beginning. Once inside the time-lock, we would be free to move anywhere within its confines using the TARDIS's, we could bring them back here, to Kalaya. Or as it's called now, New Gallifrey."

His morals trapped by his conscience, the Doctor remained silent, half horrified, half intrigued.

"You will have plenty of time to think about it, after this Doctor."

The Master leapt to his feet and dramatically held his hands, fists clenched, in the air. Laughing uncontrollably, he motioned at the clock behind him. Its digital timer said that there was only two minutes left.

But left until what?


	13. Chapter 13

The woman in the space shuttle glowed with an undying optimism. As she careered through space she felt her hearts speed up in anticipation. She was going to hop from planet to planet, saving troubled civilisations, razing evil empires to the ground and fighting evil with her mind, instead of her fists, just like her father.

She reflected on her brief time with her only parent. So much of her biologically programmed teachings had been overturned in mere hours spent with him. Of course, the skill, the lust for war still sat deep within her, but the moral righteousness that had been instilled by the Doctor and the red haired woman kept that easily at bay.

Flicking down a series of switches, the girl heard the shuttles computer say, in a monotone voice behind her, that they were approaching the planet of Kalaya.

She laughed heartily, enthusiasm and excitement radiating from her. She was so near her goal, an actual alien planet! Something different to tunnels and death.

A brave new world before her.

And yet, in the distant past, on Earth, the mood in the TARDIS was quite different.

Rory and Amy Williams sat in deathly silence on their shared four poster double bed in the massive machine. Rory had tried on several occasions to strike up conversation, about what to do, where to go. Each time he was met with a stony stare and a wall of silence.

He had accepted the situation. He was far from happy about it, though he was never all that close to the Doctor anyway. Pondering it, he realised that no one was really that close to the Doctor. Amy thought she was, but it was quite clear that the relationship between them was all one way traffic coming from her part.

Amy, externally silent, was internally in turmoil. There was, at the bottom of her despair, a glimmering light of hope. That small gem of faith that still burned brightly even after all the other fires of passion had long since been extinguished.

"He's coming back."

Those three words, small and simple, were the first that Amy had spoken for quite literally hours. Rory would have replied, but he was rendered speechless by the tough, stoic resilience in her voice.

After an awkward pause of a few seconds, which felt like an absolute lifetime, he fumbled a reply.

"He said he's dead Amy."

Suddenly animated and angry, Amy leapt to her feet, snarling.

"Time can be re-written! And the Doctor lies Rory! He lied in the museum!"

"He died in the museum too! Or... Kinda never existed after what happened in the museum. I still really don't know wh-"

"Shut up!" she screeched in his face, tears once again flowing freely from her eyes. "We can't abandon him!"

Rory felt like he should point out that it was the Doctor who had abandoned them. He did not point this out because he could sense the reaction he would get from his wife. And he wouldn't like it. People rarely do like feeling their eardrums bleed.

Instead of criticising, he simply asked, quite meekly, "What can we do then?"

Amy ran her hands down her face. Inside, anger fought with fear, fear battled despair, despair sparred with anger...

With the trio of emotions locked against one another in her heart, she couldn't think straight. Even if she could, there was no way that she could figure out how to save her childhood friend.

Instead, she stormed out of the room, leaving her husband staring sadly at his shoes.

Rory Williams knew that his bride would never be satisfied with a normal life again. Hell, she had hardly been satisfied with it before the Doctor had whisked her away. He himself had managed to compromise and, at the very least, learn to accept this new and strange life, if not enjoy it. But Amy loved every second of it. It completed her, gave her a reason to live, got her out of her supposedly dull routine.

With the death of the Time Lord the new life of theirs had ended also.

For Rory knew that was the true reason that Amy felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest, and he felt only the grief felt by all at the passing of a friend. A new sadness was pushing through though. A sadness that had always lingered below the surface. A sadness borne from realisation.

Amy chose him over the Doctor when faced with the Dream Lord. Amy married him. Amy loved him.

And yet...

Had the Doctor not crashed his stag party, he would never have come to the TARDIS. The reason that the Doctor had come, was, of course, because Amy had kissed him.

And yet... Though the feelings Amy had for the Doctor were unrequited, they were still that, feelings. Feelings that his wife held for another man. Who knew what she dreamt of while she slept? The Dream Lord did, and he alluded very vividly to where her imagination took her while she rested.

If she had not kissed the Doctor, if the man had not known that she was engaged, would they ever have come back to Earth? Would Amy have continued to travel with him until she forgot about Rory's pathetic existence? Hell, through her travels she _did_

forget about his pathetic existence.

She loved her life with the Doctor. She loved the adventure, the danger, the ventures into the unknown. And Rory knew that, whether it was reciprocated or not, she would always love the man himself. He was only a place-holder.

Clenching his teeth bitterly, he felt the sadness at the death of his supposed 'friend' flow out of his body, being gradually replaced with a sick happiness at his departure. Amy was hurting now, but what was done was done. Their life of adventure was over. Whether she wanted it or not, she was stuck with him, the second place prize, and their boring earth-bound life.

He would keep up the act of misery. He would lament and comfort his bride. Then he would take her, and she would be his forever.

In the deepest reaches of Rory's brain, a small voice cried out. This wasn't Rory Williams at all.

This was someone else.


	14. Chapter 14

Back in the great hall, the Doctor hummed nonchalantly and quietly to himself as the Master rambled on about destiny and birthrights and... Unlimited rice puddings.

As always, in spite of appearances, he was listening very, very carefully to everything his enemy said, yet disbelieving every word of it.

All of a sudden, without any sign of warning, the Master tore the duct tape off of the mouth of the Doctor.

"There, I've spoken quite long enough. Ah, who am I kidding, I can never speak enough, I have a great voice! These vocal cords are fantastic! Anyway, I need you to be able to speak. Or, more accurately, I need you to be able to agree..."

"Agree with you? Oh come on Master, in nine hundred and seven years, when have we ever agreed with one another?"

The Master frowned. Then pouted. "Oh dear... I don't like it when _you _use my name at all... You make it sound... Oh no, I can't even say it. Your last incarnation made it sound so... Flattering. I'm not sure that I like you very much at all. Maybe your next incarnation will be a little better..."

At that, the Doctor opened his mouth in shock as he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Then he heard the most terrifying sound in the world as the pistol was cocked.

Suddenly, the Master tossed it aside with an insane laugh. Grinning wildly, he leant in close to his foe. So close that the Doctor could feel the warm breath of his enemy on his face.

"Like I ever would. I need you Doctor. Not just to complete this plan, but because I really don't know what I would be without you. I lost the drums, I don't want to lose you too."

The Doctor, despite his massive intellect, was taken very much aback by his foes inconsistency. Dapper and charming gave way to manic and crude. Manic and crude gave way to dark and threatening.

He had spoken loudly for almost twenty minutes now, yet actually said little. That wasn't like him.

And what happened next very much was not like the Master he knew.

His voice level, tranquil and calm, he spoke.

"We have agreements Doctor, many, many times in the past. Perhaps in your old age you have forgotten... But I remember. I always remember."

His eyes misty, the mind of the Master had clearly vacated its owners body and was wandering far in the realm of memory. A blank and vacant smile formed on the handsome face.

"When we were children Doctor. We were the best of friends. So many good times..."

Irritated, the Doctor snarled; "Look, I do remember all of this. Now just damned well tell me what you're doing and why you need me to help!"

The Master, snapped out of his trance, pulled himself away and turned his back to his oldest enemy.

"You really are making shooting you seem like a preferred option..." with a snort, the Master glanced briefly at the clock. The number zero was flashing on the screen above the throne.

Genuinely shocked, he pulled a strange device out of his pocket. On first glance it would appear to be a fob watch. The Doctor strained to catch a closer look. Before he could though, the Master spoke into it, revealing its true function as a radio.

"Valdash, did it work? Did we get her?"

The radio crackled briefly before the reply came;

"Yes, my Lord and Master."

"Oh yes!" he yelled triumphantly, thrusting a fist in the air. He turned to the Doctor, his eyes wide in delight. Anger still bubbling away, the Doctor snapped once more;

"Got who? What game are you playing Master?"

A simple laugh was the reply.

"Hmm... I think you're growing on me _new _Doctor."

"Tell me! Please!"

The Doctor was exasperated. The look in his eyes matched the pleading tone of his voice. The Master was amused.

"Fine... I'll tell you, but only because I need your help."

The Doctor blinked. Once. Twice. Before the Master could speak, he was cut off by the single, quiet word the Doctor whispered.

"What?"

He couldn't possibly have heard that correctly. There was no way that the Master had just said the words that had somehow escaped his mouth.

"You heard me. I need your help. And this is why."

As the Doctor now listened intently, his oldest enemy and one-time friend recounted everything that had happened on Kalaya for the past hundred years. Everything he had done before and in between. How he had manipulated the politics of the planet, how he had brought the Toclafane back from the end of the universe using the Heart of the TARDIS. How using the white point star from the Time War he had managed to pull other artefacts.

"So small Doctor... At one time, even using the Eye of Harmony I was only able to pull through single strands of the materials I needed... A single cell of a seed to grow the silver leafed trees of our homeworld. It took far more than the century that has passed here to build the prototype seeds for me to replicate... And the sky, hell, I'm not going to get into how difficult that was..."

The Doctor was enthralled by the twisted genius of the man before him. The Master was still insane, still evil to the core. But what he had managed to achieve was just, quite plainly, fantastic.

So the Master continued to recount his story, telling now of his actions after completing his … Galliforming of Kalaya.

Strangely, he told of the planet Messaline. The Doctors ears perked up at that.

After mentioning the name of the planet, the Master paused ominously. The Doctor, hyperactive and energetic as he is, normally would have interrupted at this point to demand answers. Instead he continued to listen in a stunned silence as his foe spoke once more, his tone now far more reserved.

"You can hear it now too, can't you? The heartbeat. Haven't you figured out what it is? Has it really been so long?"

Seeing the blank expression of his fellow Time Lord, the Master allowed himself another manic laugh.

"Ba-da ba-ba! The heart beat of a Time Lord Doctor! Or, should I say, the heart beat of a Time Lady..."

Clambering to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind him, the Doctor pushed himself as far from the pole as he could manage. Anger pushing his curiosity aside, he demanded an answer, yelling a now familiar '"What?"' at his enemy.

"The psychic link Doctor. The thing that has allowed us to know of the existence of the other throughout time and space for aeons. You never heard mine because, well, I didn't want you to. And I went to great lengths to make sure that you didn't. A network akin to Archangel orbits this world, but don't be getting any ideas of using that against me like you did last time. It's being destroyed as we speak. Now listen."

For seemingly the first time in his life, the Doctor did as he was told. After several seconds of silence, he heard the sound again. The rhythmical beating of twin hearts.

Smiling like a predator playing with its prey, the Master breathed softly.

"Keep listening..."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a second rhythm began, pounding far faster than the slow beat of the first. The Doctor looked the Master in the eye in fear and shock.

"Yep! That one is little old me! My hearts are positively racing in anticipation, seeing as everything has worked so perfectly thus far!"

"Who is it?"

"Oh hush, I'm still talking."

"Who is it!"

"Temper temper, all in good time. You've barely let me finish. Now, have a little patience..."

The Master took a seat on one of the marble steps and drummed his fingers softly on the floor.

"As you know, Doctor, when a Time Lord regenerates the signal is very clear, not just in our heads, but throughout any nearby galaxies in that timeframe. When I first heard the link, I assumed it was just you, falling off a conservatory roof or something, I know how delicate you are. But then I heard it again. Not long after that. Too soon, for it to be you again. I knew then, I _knew _that there was another. One I had never met."

The Doctor had already pieced the puzzle together. He slumped in a heap against the pole. The Master took no notice.

"The signal was faint... The regeneration had taken place a long time ago. So long, in fact, that it should have long since dissipated. I knew it had to mean something. I knew it was far more powerful than a simple regeneration. It was an artificial looming."

"Looming is a myth!" the Doctor growled, raging like a trapped and wounded animal. His usual personality had long disappeared under the weight of centuries of repressed anger. He was disgusted with himself, but still he continued to snarl, denying still the truth that the Master laid before him.

"Indeed it is!" the Master boomed cheerfully, leaning towards his foe. "Or was. It's possible, you know it is. How do you think they replicated Rassilon? Or me, for that matter?. Just because you were born doesn't mean that a Time Lord _has _to be. But of course, just as the legends say, looming requires the DNA of a naturally born Time Lord to act as both mother and father. Where in the universe would they get that? Oh, I know, you!"

He pointed a finger jovially at his defeated enemy, mocking him.

"You created a new Time Lord, using disgustingly primitive technology. I know, like I said I visited Messaline, long after you had left. Never even looking back Doctor, my word, what sort of a life is that?"

The Doctor stared silently at the ground.

"I know about your daughter Doctor. Precious 'Jenny'. And she's here now."

"Jenny died." the Doctor said simply and sadly.

"Oh you really have regenerated into a bone dead idiot. She was only created about four hours before being shot. Her body repaired itself easily. She didn't even need to regenerate! You listened to... Oh yes, you listened to Martha Jones, I remember her. The great expert on Time Lord physiology! You took the word of a human over your own knowledge of basic biology! You have spent far too much time around that mongrel species!"

He spat the last two words with untold venom. The Doctor remained silent. The Master, wide eyed and innocent looking, bounded over to his throne. With an unnerving smile, he touched a button on the throne.

"That's what the countdown was for Doctor. The count down until her ship was in range of our transmat arrays. We intercepted her shuttle. That's right, all the way from Messaline, here she is Doctor, your daughter!"

With another push of a button, Jenny appeared, unconscious, across the room for the Doctor. The Master leered.

"And I bet you've never even paid child support."


	15. Chapter 15

The Doctor was silent. Brooding. He had not yet dared to look to his left and see his daughter, as he knew the pain that he would feel from doing so. So much had changed in so little time. His cavalier, adventure-seeking nature had been torn from him. The serious misery of his last two incarnations had returned. He really, really didn't like that.

He was also annoyed that his bow tie had been thrown away. And that he'd left the top hat in the TARDIS. But that was a digression, he had to focus on the present.

The Master had said much, but revealed little. At first the Doctor had thought that he merely required his own presence merely as an ego boost, to prove that he was superior to his foe. But as events moved forward, it seemed that this was far from the case. The Master needed him for something far more practical.

It made sense. That would be why he captured Jenny. As bargaining power. To force the Doctors hand.

For the first time, he looked across at his daughter. She looked exactly the same as she did the last time he saw her. Blonde, beautiful and deathly still.

Sadly, if the Master truly did wish to use her as leverage, it might just work.

Still, at least Amy and Rory were safe. So long as they got out of the TARDIS before... Oh, not like it mattered. They were clever people. Of course they would have got out, no point in even thinking about the alternative.

The Doctor sighed softly. After transporting Jenny into the great hall the Master had disappeared into his TARDIS. It had been over fifteen minutes since he last saw his foe. He could not even guess what his nemesis was doing, hidden away in the massive stone pillar which disguised the fabulous machine.

In fact, the Doctor could not even guess what the Master was _ultimately_ planning. He had essentially rebuilt Gallifrey. He had subjugated an entire people. He had altered time on a massive scale. But what was the _point_?

"Have you figured it out yet?" a voice behind him asked softly. The Doctor did not need to turn to know that it was his enemy that had posed the question.

"Come on, you're the Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. Surely you can work out what I'm up to?"

The Master grabbed the pole to which the Doctor was bound and twirled around to face his foe. The Doctor stared at him blankly.

"I haven't the faintest clue I'm afraid." the Doctor said, quite honestly. The Master, as per usual, burst into maniac laughter.

"Oh dear... Then I suppose I had better simply tell you everything. I'm not actually kidding this time, I am actually going to tell you everything, and exactly what I need you to do."

The Doctor leant forwards, listening intently.

"Y'see, the Time Lock cannot be breached from their side, because they've lost the link to our reality. It can be breached from our end however, because I have this;" at that, the Master retrieved the small Gallifreyan diamond from his pocket. The white point star. Despite himself, the Doctor was taken aback by its beauty.

"Something from within the time war. Harnessing the power of the Eye of Harmony, we can travel into the time war, save a select few Time Lords and bring them back, saving our species!"

"But... That's impossible! One TARDIS isn't enough for that! It's... Oh."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"But even if we use my TARDIS and your TARDIS we wouldn't have enough power to do something like that! The star isn't a strong enough link!"

"Ah, you are quite correct." the Master said calmly, sliding now the brown piece of coral out of his pocket. "But what if we had three?"

The Doctor digested this. In his head, he turned over the possibility of returning to the Time War, returning to Hell. It was a ludicrous idea. Further, the Master remained just as insane as ever. If not more than. He couldn't trust him, and further than that he could not sanction his destruction of an entire species by helping him. It just wouldn't be... Human.

The Doctor blinked as he analysed his last thought. He was not human. He was a Time Lord, a Time Lord who had a chance to exercise his birthright, to change time and bring back his species. He really had been spending far too much time around that planet and its peoples.

He cast his mind back to his old lives. Stealing the TARDIS with Susan back when he was all but a child himself. Travelling for centuries during his fourth incarnation with Romana. Seeing his mother that final time, during his tenth...

They could be saved. Perhaps he had been right on Mars. Perhaps he did stand as the Time Lord victorious! Who would judge him for his actions? Who could? Perhaps the vile means utilised by the Master would justify the end. After all, what was the low species of the Kalayans when compared to the billion year old legacy of the Time Lords?

The damage to Kalaya was done, nothing could change that now. He could, at the very least, see that some good would come of it. And it's not as if the Master would dominate New Gallifrey. He could quite easily be overpowered. And then, finally, he could be helped. He could be saved.

The Daleks had returned. Why not the Time Lords?

A million arguments for and against coursed through the Doctors mind as his heart battled his experience. In the end, his Time Lord pragmatism overpowered his artificial human emotions. He spoke;

"You would need someone to pilot the third TARDIS."

"And who better than a Time Lady?" the Master beamed, seeing that his foe was on-side. Proudly, the Master bounded over to the side of the unconscious body of Jenny. With unrefined glee, he motioned at her with a dramatic hand wave.

"That's the real reason I brought her here. The knowledge to pilot a TARDIS is already naturally with her. A few lessons and barra-bing barra-bong, we're there. She should wake up in the next ten minutes and then we can be on our way. In the meantime, we should get to your TARDIS."

Common sense was beginning to catch up to the Doctor. Why was he finding himself agreeing with his old enemy so simply? He had done nothing to show that he was trustworthy. He had done everything to show that he was just as diabolically evil as he had always been. And yet, the Doctor was actually considering helping him.

There had to be an ulterior motive. His enemy had to be planning something else. Something darker. With one TARDIS at his disposal, he had nigh unlimited power. With two, let alone three, he could do so much more. Could he really be a part of this? Even the plan that the Master had said was heinous and immoral in all regards, albeit justifiable. Who knew what else he planned to do?

Before he could properly gather his thoughts, he felt the Masters warm breath on the back of his neck. Suddenly, the handcuffs were unlocked. He heard a chuckle from behind him.

Getting to his feet, the Doctor walked away from his foe, over to his bow tie, cast aside from earlier. The Doctors face was grave, at present his youthful features strangely looked older, making him appear far closer to his actual age. Thoughts and notions still turning over in his head, he picked up the bow tie and hastily tied it, turning to face his foe. Summoning his strength, trying desperately to force himself back into his usual frame of mind, he said four small words.

"Bow ties are cool."


	16. Chapter 16

Rory Williams stared at his hands, transfixed, as if fascinated by them. Slowly, he flexed his fingers, feeling his joints mount surprising resistance. Then they began to glow blue.

Navy blue faded to cobalt, cobalt to pallid. Then a white light shone brightly in the palms of both hands. Eyes wide, Rory tore his gaze away and pushed himself to his feet. The bedroom was swaying gently, as it often does when one is drunk.

He had been lost in strange thoughts that did not belong to him. He remembered that much. Then, quite suddenly, he was in full control of himself again. He felt fear clutch his heart, bringing with it a desperate feeling that he had to get out of the TARDIS. Get out with Amy and continue with his life.

He shook his head violently. The room levelled out. The white light dissipated. He tried to take a moment to gather his thoughts, but found that his head was clouded. Frowning slightly, he took a step forward. The room began to sway once more, though the light did not return.

Feeling at ill ease, to say the least, Rory stumbled out of the room, pushing through the ancient door of the TARDIS bedroom.

The corridor was dark, it was almost impossible to see anything. Starting down the way to the console room, he began to mutter to himself;

"Amy... G'fin' Amy..."

Through the darkness, he pushed on, the light at the end of the corridor never seeming to get any closer. Momentarily, he paused, trying to work out exactly what was creating the light.

Suddenly, and without any warning, a blue laser been shot past his ear, missing him by less than a centimetre. Still in his dazed state, he turned to look down the corridor.

He could make out a dark shadow, though what exactly it resembled he did not know.

Two lights flashed at the top of the shadow, illuminating a dull grey dome with protruding eye-stalk, as a hideous, screaming, robotic voice spoke.

It simply said one, chilling word.

_**"EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"**_

__Still unsure what was going on, Rory had at least the sense to turn and continue to stumble down the corridor of the TARDIS, away from the machine.

Another laser beam shot past him. Rory threw himself to the floor. Looking up, through blurred vision, he could discern that a troop of very small men was marching towards him. Each was armed, though with what he could not tell.

As red streaks of light shot towards his attacker, he realised that these too, were laser weapons.

The battle raged above his head for less than a minute. Several of the small soldiers were shot down by the robotic creature, but ultimately a sick scream from behind informed him that the barrage of shots was too much for it.

Only two of his saviours remained standing by the end of the battle. Unsteadily, he made to stand up, his sight still very much sub-par.

His hearing, however, remained accurate. As soon as he was upright he heard one of the armoured soldiers cry out an order to the other. The order distinctly sounded like one to kill the human.

Doing all that he could, Rory leapt to the side, bursting through a door he had passed many times but never entered. Slamming it shut behind him, he slid down the wall and rested his head against the cool stone.

Stone? That was new. Though unsurprising. The TARDIS alternated between extremes such as futuristic glass and steel in the control room and oak and teak in the bedrooms. Rory quite distinctly remembered coming across a very strange room made of coral once, of all things.

He quite literally had no idea what was going on at all. His hands had started to glow, his eyesight suddenly started to blur, then midgets and robots starting having a laser battle in the middle of the spaceship that had been his home for the past few months.

Scratch that, the last part kicked in the reality that even the stuff he had learned to accept made no sense.

As he rubbed his eyes and gradually found his vision returning to normal, he resolved that no matter what was going on, he had to find Amy. With the Doctor dead, there was absolutely no reason to stay in the TARDIS with its insanity.

For the first time, he examined his surroundings. The room was gargantuan, with great wooden pillars extending to the roof. Ancient, burning torches decorated the room sporadically, illuminating the slightly dusty floor. A great staircase spiralled up to a balcony which overlooked the entire room.

In the centre, putting even the rest of the beautifully designed room to shame, was a curious raised platform. Slowly, Rory edged towards it. Four golden staffs protruded from the corners of the square platform, and right in the middle was a raised bump.

_"The eye of harmony..."_ said a voice in his head that was not his own. Slowly, unconsciously, he reached out and touched one of the ornate staffs, feeling the icy metal on his flesh.

With a gasp, he tore himself away. He heard the voice curse within him.

"What's going on?" he demanded to know from the world at large. Silence was the only answer.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a body fell from the roof of the massive room, hanging from a noose tied around its neck. The horrific snap breaking bones made Rory pivot quickly, turning to face the corpse.

Blank, dead and hollow green eyes stared at him. An empty look of sadness was etched on the pale face. Rory felt all strength drain out of him. Falling to his knees, he let out an animalistic howl.

The body was that of Amy.

Tears streaming down his face, he hugged the dangling legs of his corpse bride and wept, screaming at the world for snatching his from him.

His eyes bloodshot, his face red, he looked up at his wife. Even in death, she was beautiful. Pulling himself up, he stroked his soft, cold face and undid the knot of the noose that bound her.

Carrying her in weak arms, he laid her to rest on the dusty stone floor of the room and closed her eyelids over her blank stare. She looked at peace.

He had lost her once before, and the Doctor had saved her. With him gone, he was left with the unrepentant fear that this time he would have to face reality.

"How? Why?" he lamented, weeping over her still form. A pounding on the door indicated that the little soldiers had not given up their pursuit of him.

Fury filled him, replacing the anguish. He would die defending the body of his love. Life was not worth living without her.

Breathing heavily, he pulled one of the staffs from its resting place, a soft, blue burst of light shining brightly from the hole it once covered.

The creatures broke down the door. Screaming with primal rage, he charged towards the small figures, his makeshift weapon raised high above his head.

Before he could even get close, he was hit square in the chest by one of the laser bursts and thrown backwards, landing at the feet of the still form of his loves cadaver.

The harsh, cruel world began to fade. Darkness descended on his vision, yet through it, he saw the most wonderful sight he could imagine.

Amy, on the other side, in the afterlife, reaching out a pale hand towards him. Smiling as he felt the last of his strength drain from him, he forced himself to reach his hand out in kind...


	17. Chapter 17

"Wake up sweetcheeks. Ah, there we go. Pleasant dreams?"

Rory Williams awoke slowly, the voice alternating between deafeningly loud and inaudibly quiet. He opened his eyes, seeing the blurry outline of a short, bald and slightly fat older man standing proudly in front of the TARDIS console. Though his features were unclear, Rory recognised instantly who the man was.

"Hello. It's little, creepy old me again. And I'm here for good this time."

The figure came into focus. Attired in a dark navy tweed jacket with a bright red bow tie, Rory could not fail to recognise him as the Dream Lord.

"Here is what I am going to do Mr. Williams. I am going to break your delicate little mind. Your lover will die a thousand times, and you will be powerless to prevent it. You will be tortured, mutilated and killed again and again and again. Now I realise that you understand that none of this is real. But keep in mind..."

In a sudden movement, the Dream Lord drew a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into Rory's neck. Pain shot through him. Blood dribbled from his mouth. Unable to control his body's movement, his hands flapped pathetically towards the knife, trying to pull the blade out desperately.

"Everything here _feels_ real. The mental scars I inflict on your while you are in my domain will haunt you for the rest of your life..."

Once again, his vision went black.

Just as suddenly as he had died, he awoke, again in the TARDIS console room. This time however, he found himself strapped into a rickety wooden chair, quite unable to move.

Across the room, he could see his wife, strapped in tightly to a similar chair, though struggling furiously against her restraints.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the Dream Lord materialised, wearing curious Edwardian dress. Tartan trousers and a blazer, with a cloak draped over his shoulders.

"Now, I made promises to torture you both, and here we go. Level one, so to speak, hmm?"

The Dream Lord allowed himself a humourless laugh.

"Outside the time machine is the planet Mondas. Presently, it is using an energy drain to, basically, end all life on Earth. It's not powerful enough to hurt any humans on that planet yet, but but any non cybernetic organism on Mondas is very much in peril. Oh, and look at that, we just landed."

Pacing around the console, the Dream Lord took a long, sad look at the viewing screen.

"You're both protected from the energy drain right now..."

With an evil smirk, the Dream Lord flicked a switch on the console. Both Rory and Amy felt their chests tighten. Amy felt his muscles weaken. After several seconds, she found herself unable to continue the struggle.

"But now you're not. Adieu!"

At that, he disappeared, leaving the couple writhing in pain in their chairs.

Through his agony, Rory found that his only real concern was the well-being of Amy. Through gritted teeth he called out her name.

She was in far too much pain to notice.

Sweat rolled down her face. Her hands tightened into fists through the agonising pain, though gradually opened again as she found herself lacking the strength to even continue that simple movement.

Rory saw through his burning eyes that his wife's body had succumbed, and become completely limp. His heartbeat slowing, the last of his strength abandoning him, he forced himself through the pain to cry out in defiance:

"This isn't real!" he screamed before once more he felt his life slip away from him.

The grinning figure of the Dream Lord materialised once more. With a look of satisfaction, he examined the two corpses. Sardonically, he passed a simple comment to himself.

"Looks like those old bodies of yours are wearing a bit thin."

"Already I think this one is going to be my favourite. Simply because it allows me to get a little bit more... Shall we say inventive?"

Rory and Amy found themselves lying awake, side by side, on an operating table. Both of their hearts were racing, as ones heart normally does after waking from a nightmare.

As with the last time, Amy instantly tried to pull her self free of her bonds. Snarling, she shot the Dream Lord a venomous look. He returned the glare with a smile.

"Ah Amy. I think I'll start with you. A change of appearance, they said. I think that using this," from his pocket, he drew the still bloodied knife that had been used to kill Rory for the second time. "will bring about _quite_ a change, don't you?"

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Amy loudly, still pulling on her constraints.

The Dream Lord ignored the plea and simply adjusted his blue spotted bow tie.

"I hate bow ties. That last outfit was far better than this, don't you think. Anyway, to business. I guess I'll offer you a choice Mrs Williams. I can either cut out your eyes, slice off your nose or make your face a criss-cross of scars?"

Rory swallowed a lump in his throat. Anger fuelling him, he began to struggle against the restraints just as Amy quietly resigned herself.

"Don't you _dare_. Don't you even try it!" Rory roared, pulling in vain at the ropes that bound him to the operating table. His efforts only amused his captor further.

Tears were rolling freely down Amy's face. Sobbing in fear, she turned to Rory. Softly, she pleaded for him to help.

Looking into his lover's eyes, Rory Williams felt his heart break. He bit his lip gently as he reached out to her with the hand nearest her. She did the same. His heart sinking, Rory realised that she was too far from him to grasp his hand, as he had intended. Instead, they pressed their fingertips together. Though she knew her fate, the simple contact gave her strength. She smiled sadly at the love of her life before turning to the Dream Lord, who was sharpening the blade while whistling an irritating tune.

"It isn't real." Amy said simply, defiantly. The Dream Lord loomed over her, knife in hand.

"Your fear is, Amy. And your pain will be too."

The blade descended.


	18. Chapter 18

"What, in Rassilon's name, is your fixation with Earth Doctor? Can you not go more than five days without visiting that wretched, damp little planet?"

The Doctor smiled and reclined on the raggedy couch, clasping his hands together. "I can't actually. Only place in the universe you can get a decent pint of milk. Not that I like milk any more really, but Amy and Rory drink it."

"_Another_ Earth girl? Really?"

"Look, never mind all that, let's just go get the TARDIS."

"Not until your little one wakes up my good man, she'll need to see a time capsule in action if we're to pull this off."

The Doctor nodded, his mind wandering to once more consider every possible consequence of any decision he could possibly make. In the end, he simply shrugged his doubts off. For once in his lives, he would stick to the decision made, instead of mentally debating the potential outcomes and moral conundrums until the decision was made for him.

One thing bothered him still, however...

"The Kalayans," he said simply. The Master turned to face him, confusion registering on his handsome face. He made a motion with his hands, conveying that he required some form of elaboration before he could give an answer.

"What's going to happen to them, once New Gallifrey is repopulated with Time Lords?"

"Ah. Hadn't really thought about that. I'd suggest killing them all, but I know that would offend your sensibilities. What do you want to do with them?"

"Well for one thing we send the bloody Toclafane back to the end of the universe! Then... Oh, I'll figure something clever out eventually..."

He heard himself say the words, but he did not know where they came from. It didn't sound like him. Never in his present incarnation, or any of his other incarnations, had he been so... Apathetic in regards to the plight of another race.

He had come close, during his sixth. He winced at the memory, though on reflection he was only slightly better during his seventh. And frankly, the less said about his ninth, the better, though that at least was excusable given the circumstances surrounding that particular regeneration.

Actually... Contemplating his ninth regeneration, he remembered the pain, the guilt he had felt. This was his chance to rectify it, no matter how immoral it seemed to be. The Doctor inhaled deeply and dragged his thoughts away from banal questions of morality.

Slapping his hands off his thighs, he stood up, fiddling with his bow tie. Cool as they were, he could never tie the damn things properly without a mirror. As the Master continued to tinker around with the console, he produced a small hand-held mirror and retied his bow tie, properly this time. He raised an eyebrow as he regarded the reflection. This incarnation really was brilliant.

Suddenly, without any semblance of warning and only for the most fleeting of seconds, the reflection changed, becoming a likeness of...

"No..." the Doctor gasped, dropping the shard of glass. It smashed on the floor of the TARDIS. The Master twirled around and gave him a quizzical look.

"I know you're ugly Doctor, but there's no need for that!"

The Doctor ignored him, patting his face frantically. The Master regarded him briefly in confusion, and then resumed his task.

Satisfied that he was still, in fact, quite himself, the Doctor brushed the broken pieces of the mirror under the couch discreetly with his boots. He analysed what he had just saw in his mind.

The Dream Lord had been looking back at him when he looked in the mirror. There was no doubt about it. The personification of the darkness within him stared back when he looked at an image of himself. How? Why? Why now?

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, the Doctor stepped over to his daughters side. She rested with her back against one of the TARDIS pillars, still unconscious. A look of sadness in his eyes, the Doctor took her hand in his own and squeezed it tightly before walking to the Masters side.

"How long until she wakes up?"

"You've got no patience at all, do you?" the Master snorted. "Should be any time now. I don't know, I didn't make the bloody transmat.

He paused.

"Well, I did, but that wasn't one of the considerations I had when I made it."

Behind them, Jenny began to stir. Neither noticed.

"What do we tell her when she wakes up anyway? I look the same age as her now! She'll have a hard time accepting that, let alone Amy and Rory. Actually, what about people in general? Oh my, that'll be awkward. Hi, meet my daughter, she looks like she's the exact same age as me!"

The Doctor paused and considered the last time he had saw Susan. That incarnation of hers looked older than he did now.

"And why don't you meet my granddaughter while we're at it! She appears to be older than me!"

The Master laughed at the Doctors rant. The quirkiness of this version of his foe was rather amusing. From the corner of his eye he noticed Jenny beginning to stir.

"Well, at least she'll recognise me as her dad. Even if she doesn't know why."

"Well, you can have fun explaining all this to her, that's her waking up now. I'm off to hide through the back and watch."

With a devilish grin, the Master bounded out of the room before his foe could do anything. The Doctor raised a hand in futile protest, then lowered it, accepting that he had been bested. Feeling slightly awkward, he turned to face Jenny, who was staring at him with unnerving bright blue eyes.

Though he knew that this particular incarnation was intelligent, articulate, handsome, suave, charming, dapper, interesting and generally fantastic in every way possible, as well as being wondrously snappy dresser to boot, he did not anticipate that it was suited to fatherhood at all.

Silently, he cursed his social awkwardness and beamed brightly yet clumsily at Jenny, who stared at him incredulously in confusion. A faint glimmer of recognition twinkled in her eye, but quickly disappeared.

"Okay, just sit there and don't talk, there's a lot of explaining to be done."


	19. Chapter 19

It had taken well over an hour to fill Jenny in on everything. Well, he hadn't exactly filled her in on _everything _per se, but at least she now knew the basics of her heritage and the situation.

As the trio piloted the Masters TARDIS, the Doctor reflected on just how much the conversation between himself and his daughter, particularly the parts regarding regeneration, sounded like the kinds of conversations which humans regard as 'teaching about the birds and bees'. He had once told a previous companion that regeneration on Gallifrey was regarded in the same way sex was on Earth. He didn't even imagine that the parallel would become quite so apparent to him.

"What does this do?" Jenny suddenly asked, interrupting his train of thought. Both the Master and the Doctor turned and stared at her in horror.

"Don't touch those! They're the err..." the Master started, before trailing off, leaving the sentence hanging. He turned to the Doctor. "What are those?"

"They're boringers! Blue boringers!"

Together, as one, the Master and Jenny shot him an incredulous look.

"What?"

"I like the whooshy landing noise! It won't do it if you press those!"

"Has anyone ever told you you're an idiot Doctor? Jenny, flick the switch to your... Left."

Hastily, Jenny obeyed. The time rotor slowed and the familiar materialisation sound resounded throughout the TARDIS.

"What did I tell you? It's a good noise."

The Master rolled his eyes. Jenny laughed. She still had not exactly grasped many of the concepts which had been explained to her, but in an absolutely absurd way what her father had told her seemed to make sense.

When she looked at him now the differences were unbelievably noticeable, as they would be to anyone. He was, quite literally, a different person. He was younger, had black hair and, marking a stark contrast to the father she knew, had terrible dress sense. His mannerisms, speech and well, everything was completely different.

And yet, as he spoke to her, she looked deep into his eyes and saw the man she knew. The man who had managed to teach her the value of life, to to override her very own genetic programming in little more than a few hours.

She trusted him. He spoke of fascinating things. He explained how he could cheat death by changing his face, just as she would be able to. She had already managed it once, though because she had been, as the Doctor termed it, "Within the first fifteen hours of the preliminary generation process," her physiology had remained intact. She had, apparently, regenerated without reincarnating.

He had also told her of a plan to save the Time Lords. To save a world which had died before its time. As the Doctor had told her the details, Jenny had saw the conflict he was going through. The options he was weighing up. She had thought to speak up, to reassure him that what they were doing was good, which, of course, it was. No one would be harmed through the course of the plan, or else the Doctor wouldn't be involved, but she had thought better of it. It would be better if he worked it out on his own.

The two men were preparing to leave. The Master, as he called himself, held out a hand towards her. Smiling warmly, she took it. The man really was handsome, and definitely charming. She had only one brief conversation with him, yet he had managed to flatter her throughout.

And yet, her father had given her a curious warning about him. He had told her that, no matter what he did, the Master was not to be trusted. This had struck Jenny as most confusing, considering that the pair were clearly working together and, beneath the animosity that they appeared the enjoy pretending that they shared, they seemed to have quite a strong bond, as only the closest of friends possess.

"Well Jenny, I must say that I didn't expect someone as ugly as him to father someone quite so beautiful as you," the Master said, looking intently into her bright blue eyes with his own.

Jenny laughed nervously. He certainly was coming on strong.

_Not that you're objecting _said a nasty little voice in the back of her head. She quickly silenced it.

The Doctor was far too preoccupied staring at the TARDIS screen to notice the fledging romance between his oldest enemy and his daughter. His head bowed, he marched straight past them and out of the door of the machine, shouting for them to come along as he did so. His TARDIS was less than a block away.

As he marched on ahead of the pair through Leadworth, he hoped desperately to himself that Amy and Rory had not stayed in the TARDIS too long. Knowing Amy, the duo would have stuck around for at least a few hours just in case he returned, which was stupid because emergency program one explicitly said that he had died and would not be coming back.

Well, evidently that fact was wrong, and Amy would be quite right to wait, but it was still dangerous, considering the precaution he had activated in the TARDIS before leaving for Kalaya.

Probably should have warned them...

He had been so busy though! And worried. There was so much to do, so much to consider that he didn't have time to explain anything. As he reached his TARDIS and slowly slipped the key into the lock, he realised just how much he presently relied on nothing more than hope.

He turned the key. He heard the Master and Jenny laugh quietly together behind him, though that was of little concern. His hearts racing, his breath still, he opened the bright blue wooden door.

"Oh no..." he breathed as he saw the two unconscious figures on the floor. He felt a rush of sadness, yet no surprise, as if he had expected this to happen.

Ignoring the Doctors melancholy, and the bodies on the floor, the Master gazed around the time machine, raising an eyebrow. Jenny stared in wonder, still amazed by the notion that the wonderful machines were bigger on the inside.

"Y'know, I do like this redesign. I have to admit it is pretty snappy." the Master cheerfully said, pulling Jenny past the bodies to gaze at the console.

"Dad, who are they? What's wrong?" Jenny asked, pulling away from a the Master, who was too transfixed with the controls to notice or care.

Ignoring the questions, the Doctor drew his screwdriver. Closing his eyes tightly, turning his head away, he pointed it at the couple.

The device flashed green, once. Twice.


	20. Chapter 20

"Going to have to get creative with this one. It was so horrific even the Doctor repressed the memory of it. But I do at least have something to go on..."

Amy lay, bound, gagged and weeping on the floor. Rory was chained to the wall, his head bowed. Both had died seven times now. Seven agonising tortures at the hands of the fat, laughing man. They had been poisoned with radiation, thrown from great heights and forced to watch the other scream and weep as the Dream Lord vivisected them, still conscious and devoid of anaesthesia.

He looked down at Amy's whimpering body with a look akin to that of pity. But there was no remorse in his evil eyes. His face remaining stoic, he adjusted his cravat and leant down beside the red headed girl. Rory didn't even have the strength to cry out.

He stared at the Dream Lord now through blank and glassy eyes. He had never felt such hatred in all his life. The monster was draped in a dark morning coat, complete with waistcoat and cravat. Throughout the tortures he had wore a variety of quirky outfits, including a hideous and garish multicoloured coat and an outfit which included a ludicrously long scarf.

Not that what he wore mattered. The man was still evil to the core.

He spoke to Amy now, his voice so soft that Rory failed to hear what was being said. He wanted to shout, but he was too tired. He could not save the woman he loved, and therefore he was little more than a broken man. A failure.

Just as Rory Williams once more began to wallow in his melancholy, there came a curious, yet familiar sound. Rory looked up. A very welcome sound. The Doctors screwdriver.

Without warning, Amy disappeared. The Dream Lord looked momentarily shocked, then turned to face Rory with a devious grin.

"Oh, he's earlier than I expected. Still, it makes no difference..."

Then, for Rory, everything went dark.

Then he woke up. In the TARDIS. With Amy weeping in his arms.

The Doctor was staring at him sadly. A young man in a black suit fiddled with controls on the console. A young, blonde woman stood behind the Doctor.

But the most surprising, and horrific sight, was the man who stood behind him.

The Dream Lord.

Breathing heavily, the sweat from his nightmares rolling down his forehead, Rory turned to the malicious being.

"This isn't real either? Why are you doing this?"

"No Rory... This is real, I just don't know how," the Doctor said sadly, pacing around the now corporeal form of the Dream Lord. "Or why."

"Oh come on, you know both surely? It can't be so hard that the last of the Time Lords can't figure it out?"

As soon as he finished talking, the Dream Lord promptly fell over, a trickle of blood running down the back of his head. The Master stood behind his fallen form, proudly holding a now-bloodied mallet.

"You killed him?" Jenny asked, the shock ringing out clear in her voice. The Master smiled.

"Oh you think?" the Master said, waving a hand at the body. A golden light was swirling around it. The Doctor shot his old foe a look.

"You know what's going on, don't you?"

"I didn't, but I figured it out. It was hardly difficult. I had assumed when we met that you were in your eleventh incarnation, but as soon as I saw him I knew I was mistaken."

"But I am in my eleve-"

The Doctors reply was never finished, as quite out of the blue the body of the Dream Lord snapped upright, standing rigidly on the penultimate step leading to the console. Golden energy billowed out of his jacket, obscuring the mans head and hands. Rory, though preoccupied with caring to Amy, could not help but stare in disbelief. Jenny turned to her father, a look of recognition mixed with confusion in her eyes.

The Master laughed. The Doctor grasped his sonic screwdriver tighter, knowing it was useless but feeling comforted by its presence all the same.

Then the regeneration stopped. Standing before the Time Lords and Humans stood a man quite different in appearance to the Dream Lord. He was tall, older yet faintly handsome, with receding black hair. The Doctor and the Master recognised him instantly, though their paths had not crossed for literal lifetimes.

The new man frowned and turned to the Master. With surprising speed, he lunged forward, punching the Time Lord in the chest. The Master flew backwards and slammed off of the TARDIS console before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

"I liked that old body, though I can't say I liked its choice in clothing." the new Dream Lord said simply, turning to the remaining four occupants of the TARDIS.

"I know who you are."

"Yes."

"How? I was told quite expressly that you formed during my twelfth and final regeneration, not my eleventh."

"Oh Doctor, are you really so blind to it all? How many regenerations have you been through?"

The Doctor frowned, puzzled by the question. Surely he had already answered it, he was in his eleventh incarnation...

"Ah I can see the old gears turning away there Doctor. You're in your eleventh incarnation! How does that possibly allow little old me to gain physical form?" he laughed maliciously. "Then let me answer with another question, did you think that ol' biological metacrisis really avoided the regenerative process?"

The Doctor's mouth opened. "No..."

"Yes. You regenerated, but you did not change your face. And then you regenerated into... That," He looked the Doctor up and down with distaste. "Which makes twelve."

Amy, the tears still flowing from her eyes and down her cheeks, desperately shouted a question at the Doctor, the only emotions in her voice pain and despair.

"Who is he Doctor? And why is he doing this?"

"Me? I am the Valeyard. And I'm doing this because I can."

"Okay, I've got the whole regeneration thing straightened out in my head, but really, how did you manage to get physical form now? Why not months ago, when the pollen got caught in the time rotor?

The Valeyard was casually searching the unconscious body of the Master. A dry chuckle revealed that he had discovered the object of his desire. A small brass cylinder.

"Another story for another day," he said simply, holding the device up in the light. The Doctor instantly recognised it as the Master's laser screwdriver. Before anyone could react, the Valeyard pointed the device at Jenny and pressed the activation button...


	21. Chapter 21

A look of annoyance crossed with confusion crossed the Valeyard's face as the device refused to fire. Irritated, he examined it, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

With surprising speed, the Doctor knocked the weapon out of his hand and expertly caught it. The smug look of victory in his eye, he pointed the laser screwdriver at his evil incarnation.

"Isomorphic controls, only responds to the Masters touch! It won't fire for anyone else!" the Doctor said triumphantly. The Valeyard was unimpressed.

"You can't shoot me Doctor."

"And why wouldn't I do that? Is it because you think you know me, you think that this incarnation is so adverse to violence that I would stop myself from destroying you, the literal embodiment of evil? Well let me tell you, I may have the same body, but I am a different man now than I was before Kalaya. I understand the power that is invested within me. I know that I can rebuild civilisations and tear down evil empires. No matter how hard I have fought in my life, evil has ultimately always managed to survive. But today, here and now, I decree no more! I am the Doctor, the Oncoming storm! I am claiming my right as Time Lord Victorious!"

The Valeyard regarded him with a blank look. Behind him, the Master groaned as he regained consciousness.

"Well... I can honestly say I didn't expect that. I was just going to say that you're not the Master either, you _can't _shoot me."

The Doctor's eyes widened, his mouth gaping. Slowly, he lowered the small device in defeat. He uttered a single sentence under his breath, audible only to himself; "Well, when you put it like that..."

The Valeyard began to laugh. Elegantly, he began to descend the stairs of the TARDIS, coming closer and closer to the Doctor with every step. The Master got to his feet unsteadily.

The laughter of the Valeyard, however, was cut short by a sudden and unexpected occurrence.

Amy had quite suddenly tore herself away from Rory and snatched a pistol from the holster worn by Jenny. Her hands shaking, but a determined look in her eye, she levelled the weapon at the head of the Valeyard.

"Amy!" the Doctor and Rory yelled as one, shocked by what the actions of the young woman. Jenny seemed more overcome by surprise than anything else, as did the Valeyard.

The Master got to his feet, the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead. The Valeyard, unmoving, glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"Don't even _think_ about moving!" Amy yelled, her voice surprisingly strong and steady. Observing the scene unfold, the Master chuckled.

"It's always the women y'know," he said simply, folding his arms and leaning against the console. The Doctor looked both frustrated and panicked.

"Amy you can't shoot him!"

"Why not? You were going to!"

"Me? As if I ever would have! I knew I couldn't fire it!"

"My my Doctor, you weren't, dare I say it, _lying_? You do seem to make a habit of that."

Jenny's eyes, which had been carefully fixed on the revolver in Amy's hands flicked, just for a second, in the direction of her father. Though the movement was subtle, the Valeyard easily noticed it. He did not betray this fact, however, forcing his face to remain blank and expressionless.

"Oh yes Amy, you know how much the dear Doctor lies, don't you. And you, Rory. Do you really believe that kiss was just a kiss? Such naivety," mockingly, he shook his head. Amy pulled the hammer of the revolver back, the loud click sounding throughout the TARDIS.

"You can kill me now Amy, but you'll always remember, and always feel the guilt of, the night you betrayed your husband."

Sobbing with anguish and anger, Amy pulled the trigger of the gun. It merely clicked, revealing that it was unloaded. A grin broke out across the face of the Valeyard.

Pulling the trigger again and again, weeping weakly, Amy muttered the same two words over and over again; "You're lying... You're lying..."

Rory, who had been all but silent until this point, suddenly got to his feet. Ignoring the limp and shaking body of his wife, he turned to the Doctor, the bright spark of rage in his eye. The Valeyard had to fight back the urge to smile.

"Is what he said true Doctor?"

"Shut up just now Rory, I'm thinking." the Doctor said coldly, his eyes focused on the Master.

"IS IT TRUE!" he repeated, blinding fury in his voice. The Doctor turned to him, his face stony.

"He's lying because I lie and he's me. Now please shut up." the Doctor said simply. Or, rather, complexly.

The Valeyard extended an arm towards the Doctor. "From the horses mouth!" he boomed, looking now at Jenny. "Daddy ran away from you, didn't he? And I'll bet he told you that he thought you were dead. What a poor excuse. He's a Time Lord, and so are you. He knew that, so obviously he'd have known that a mere bullet wouldn't kill you. No... I think he just wanted you out of his life before you could even get into it, and he needed only the slightest excuse. He lied to you, just as he lies to everyone. You're all pawns to him, in his mind. And in his own little world he reigns as king."

The Doctor seemed unconcerned with the speech, instead continuing to focus on the Master.

"You're lying!" Jenny cried, stepping forward in front of her father. The Doctor blinked, as if he had been woken from a waking dream, before sidestepping slightly to the right and locking eyes with the Master once more.

"A conundrum, isn't it? Two admitted liars, trying to convince you that this one time they are being honest. But who do you believe? The man whom you trust? Or the man who makes sense?"

Jenny paused and took a long look at her unconcerned father. Doubt creased her forehead. She turned her eyes back to the Valeyard, indicating that she was willing to hear more.

"The man I trust, any day." said a man's voice, unexpectedly. Everyone, with the exception of the two Time Lords, turned to stare at Rory Williams.

"He may lie, but he is not evil. You are!" he cried, stepping forwards towards the Valeyard ominously.

"You're unarmed and weak. Do you really expect me to be threatened by you?"

"No. But that makes no difference, I am going to kill you anyway." Rory said coldly. Amy looked up at him, fearful for his safety. Jenny regarded him with a new respect. Her father had taught her that killing was wrong, but he was a different man now. A man who had shown a willingness to use a weapon. A man who may have lied to her. Was he really worth listening to?

Suddenly, the Doctor and the Master broke their eye contact. With childlike glee, the Master began to flick controls on the TARDIS. The take-off noise sounded loudly throughout the machine.

The entire group was thrown to the floor as the machine dematerialised and the room began to spin.


	22. Chapter 22

/Apologies for the massive delay, university has started once again and quite strangely it would appear that doing a law degree actually leaves me with very little free time.

I will continue to update this consistently, though less regularly from now on. I'm really sorry I can't keep writing faster, but I have five essays due already and it's only going to get worse.

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, and ask very nicely if everyone could bear with me and keep reading, I hope you continue to enjoy the story, regardless of the frequency at which it is posted. I know this chapter is far from as strong as the others, it's too talky, but it's the best I can do in the circumstances./

Laughing with childlike glee, the Master pulled himself to his feet and held on tightly to the console. Around him, the other occupants of the TARDIS were straightening themselves out also. The room stabilised. The Valeyard snarled and turned to the blonde man.

"What did you do!" he demanded, his cold, piercing eyes boring into the Master's back. Quite unconcerned, the Time Lord continued to circle the console, pressing buttons and twisting knobs.

Infuriated by the man's brazen audacity, the Valeyard clamped his teeth together and began to ascend the steps. He did not get far.

"Rory!" the Doctor cried, startled by the movement of the human. He had been, of course, oblivious to the earlier threat made.

In a surprising display of agility and strength, Rory Williams had pulled the Valeyard's legs from under him, sending him crashing to the floor with a thump. The man groaned and twitched as he lay immobile on the floor. Blood lust in his eyes, Rory raised his fist, ready to send it crashing into the back of the pseudo-Time Lord's skull...

"No..." came a soft female voice. Before he could finish his assault, a slender female hand wrapped itself around his wrist. Breathing heavily, eyes wide, Rory turned to see that Amy, tears still streaming down her face, was looking at him with a scared look of sadness etched upon her visage. Completely frozen, all Rory could do was stare at her with a stupefied look of confusion.

"You can't kill him Rory... He's vile, and disgusting and evil but you can't kill him. You just can't." she pleaded, tightening her grip around his wrist. The Doctor and Jenny observed the scene in silence as the Master pulled the TARDIS lever once again.

"Why not?" Rory demanded, his brow furrowed, the intense rage still burning within

him. "The things he has done Amy... The things he did to you..."

"Please..."

His blind anger faltering, he frowned and loosened his body, relieving himself of the tension. Amy wrapped her arms around him tightly. Curiously silent, the Doctor sauntered over to the now unconscious form of his evil ego.

"What do we do with him?" asked Jenny cautiously, still regarding her father in a strange manner. The Doctor brushed the lapels of his tweed jacket.

"There's something more important we need to find out first." the Doctor said simply. Without any warning, he grabbed Rory's arm, pulling it away from Amy. In a flash, he had his screwdriver in his hand. The light on the tip flashed and the device whirred as the Doctor scanned Rory's arm.

"That explains it..."

"Explains what!" cursed Rory, pulling his arm away from the Doctor and placing it around Amy once more.

"How the Dream Lord came to be here. Well, there and here. And by there I mean there," on the final 'there', the Doctor pressed a finger against Rory's head.

"It's his fault really," he continued, motioning at the Master. "Once upon a time he captured me and imprisoned me in a temporal prison inside my own TARDIS. I had to escape using harnessed psychic energy compressed into a sentient creature. The creature worked so well that I decided to create another one, just in case he ever tried it again. Of course, I had to activate it before it could do anything, which is why he could steal my TARDIS that one time, but you don't actually know about that so there's really no point in mentioning it. I'm talking a lot, aren't I?"

Jenny, slightly baffled, meekly nodded.

"Anyway, where was I? Hats? No. Jelly babies? No. Ah, yes. Graak. I set the Graak, that's the creature, to wake up two hours after the broadcast of emergency program one. I'm sorry to say he must have... Sort of possessed you I guess Rory. Being made entirely of psychic energy it made you sensitive enough to pick of the trace elements of the pollen that remained in the TARDIS. And, since the Graak is, essentially, me, the pollen once more brought out my dark side."

Everyone in the TARDIS, with the exceptions of course, of the Master and Valeyard, was staring at the Doctor in confusion. He shrugged.

"I'm not explaining this very well am I? Well... How about this. You were possessed by a psychic manifestation of me, which picked up a small amount of the pollen that was still lingering in the TARDIS. That brought the Dream Lord back, and allowed him to gain quasi-physical form vis a vis the quasi physical form of the Graak."

Everyone continued to stare.

"You know what? I give up. Work it out on your own! The important thing now is to figure out what to do with him!"

Jenny rolled her eyes and muttered a sarcastic comment under her breath;

"That was a long road for a short cut..."

Grinning, the Master slid down the polished bannister of the TARDIS staircase leading down to the entrance. Gracefully, he landed at the foot of the stairs and swirled around to face his former for.

"We can just imprison him on New Gallifrey. A council of Time Lord's can be the judge of his fate.

"You mean we give him a trial?" the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Essentially, yes. Anyway, I brought us back to Earth. We're right next to my TARDIS. We should take them both back to New Gallifrey now."

Without waiting for an answer, he extended an arm towards Jenny. A devilish twinkle in his eyes, he smiled at her.

"Care to join me?"

Despite herself, Jenny found herself captivated. She took the Master's hand and, before the Doctor could object, the pair slipped out the door.

Frowning as he watched them go, the Doctor prepared to ascend the stairs and take the TARDIS back to Kalaya. What he did not prepare for, was the painful slap on the cheek he suddenly received from Amy.

"You have got _so _much _real _explaining to do!"


	23. Chapter 23

/Apologies for another ridiculous delay, and a very talky chapter. Don't worry though, as the chapter after this one will be where things start to get very, very interesting, and I will endeavour to have that up come tomorrow morning ;)/

The Doctor found himself suddenly backed against the white exit doors of the TARDIS. Though shorter than him, Amy was a foreboding presence. She had actually managed to slightly intimidate the nine hundred and seven year old.

Barely pausing for breath, Amy began to vocalise demand after demand, her voice loud and strong; "Who was skinny blonde boy? Who, for that matter, was skinny blonde girl? How did the Dream Lord catch fire and change into the Valeyard or whatever he called himself, and most importantly by far, _why did you leave us?_"

The last four words were punctuated with Amy prodding the chest of the Doctor with her index finger. The Doctor, staring down at the short redhead with his eyes wide, looked to Rory to see the man's reaction. He was staring coldly at the unconscious form of the Valeyard on the floor, quite unconcerned with the unfolding drama.

With a sigh, the Doctor slipped past Amy and began to ascend the steps.

"Skinny blonde man is an old... Friend of mine. Another Time Lord, who apparently survived the war-"

Amy appeared to realise the weight of this revelation. She pursed her lips, silently allowing the Doctor to continue his explanation.

"The Valeyard can change his face because he's a Time Lord too, it's sort of a trick we use to cheat death. Remember those faces the Atraxi showed on the hologram projector back in Leadworth?"

The Doctor did not wait for a response, instead, he continued to talk;

"Those faces were mine, once upon a time. I've been eleven different people in my lifetime. Lifetimes."

Amy raised an eyebrow. She knew that, all things considered, scepticism had no place in her mind, considering that she was standing inside a time-travelling police box which was bigger on the inside, but still such a comment from the man she had known for the past year had to be, at the very least, exaggerated. Softly biting her lower lip, she ignored her doubts and pressed forward with the question that she found most intriguing by far.

"And the blonde girl? Who was she?"

The Doctor seemed to ignore the question, apparently more focused on some technical element of the TARDIS or another.

"Doctor...?"

"All right, all right..." he grumbled, leaning against the console. "She's called Jenny. She's my daughter."

At that, even Rory, who had been keeping his eyes intently focused on the still form of the Valeyard looked up in surprise.

Amy stared at the deceptively old man incredulously. That fact was even harder to digest than the face changing revelation.

"But... She looks about the same age as you!"

"Looks can be deceptive Pond. I'm nine hundred and seven and she's only... Four months."

"Four _months_!" Rory blurted out, his jaw practically on the floor. The Doctor shrugged.

"Is that what Time Lords are like? Eternally youthful or something?" Amy asked, cautiously regarding the features of the Valeyard. The body stirred.

"Of course not. Look at the state of him there! Old-looking people really just can't pull off tweed, can they?"

"So the Valeyard... He's a Time Lord too?"

"Yes, he is, now look, we really don't have time to sit here chit-chatting. Rory... Tie him up or something. We can't risk letting him loose."

Now ignoring the pair, the Doctor sauntered over to the TARDIS console and began to manipulate the controls. Mere seconds after take-off, the TARDIS landed.

"That was faster than usual Doctor." Amy said sardonically. The Doctor looked slightly concerned.

"Must have been the Master..." he said quietly, before spinning around on his heel to face his friends.

"Amy, Rory, I have to know right now that both of you impeccably trust me with your lives. Because once we step out of that door I am going to begin the process of doing something potentially morally abhorrent and definitely stupid."

Rory, who had seemingly been ignoring the Doctor until this point as he tried to find something to tie up his enemy with, actually acknowledged the question, albeit with a simple nod. Amy swallowed and nodded also.

"Of course."

"Good. Let's venture into the big bad world then!"

And, without any further formality, the Doctor bounded down the stairs and out the TARDIS doors, followed quickly by the Amy. Rory trailed sadly behind, dragging the carcass of the Valeyard with him.

The great hall was empty. There was absolutely no sign of the Master's TARDIS. The Doctor pensively regarded his surroundings.

"Shouldn't he be here by now Doctor? Your friend, what's-his-name?"

"The Master. And yes, he should be here, why isn't he here?"

Frowning, the Doctor held up his wrist and silently regarded his golden watch. His brow furrowed further.

As he turned to face his friends, there came the familiar sound of the materialisation of a TARDIS. To the left of the iconic police box, a stone pillar flickered in and out of existence. The Doctor did not appear to be reassured.

A compartment opened on the pillar. Jenny stepped out of the machine, a wide grin on her face. Directly behind her, the Master slipped out of his ship, now wearing, as opposed to a red tie and trainers, a blue combination of the same.

"Sorry we're late, took a little detour. I decided to try my luck as a politician once more. Became Prime Minister again, this time as a Tory. Great fun. I like blue, it's a nice colour."

Seeing the Doctor's expression, the Master burst into a fit of laughter.

"I'm only joking, cheer up Mr. Grumpy-Pants. I was actually a Lib Dem."

The Doctor, clearly unamused, merely blinked as Jenny laughed along with the Time Lord. Amy leant in close to him and whispered in his ear;

"You _are_ being a Mr. Grumpy-Pants again." she joked. The Doctor's serious expression both confirmed her statement and caused her some concern.

"Right," he began simply. "Give me the coral _Master_ before I change my mind."


	24. Chapter 24

The Valeyard uncomfortably opened his eyes, only to be nigh-instantly blinded by a great flash of light.

He could hear voices, though they were barely audible. He groaned slightly as he struggled to hear the conversation.

And then he was knocked unconscious again by a hard blow to the head.

"Rory!" the Doctor exclaimed in shock. The human merely shrugged.

"What else was I to do?"

The side of the Doctor's lip twitched in slight annoyance before he turned away from his friend to look at his old enemy once more.

"Okay, so we have the three TARDIS'es. Now what do we do? Is it a simple matter of psychically connecting the trio via temporal telepathy and synchronising the dematerialisation?"

The Master laughed and smiled at Jenny, who began to laugh with him. The Doctor felt a strange chill.

"If only it were that simple. Y'see, because your TARDIS is the 'parent' machine, we'll need to find some way to connect both of ours to yours _physically_."

The Doctor once again slipped into a silent and pensive state. Amy leant in behind his ear and hissed another question.

"So what exactly are you doing here?"

"I'm bending the rules of time Pond. And hopefully, if I do it right, I can save my people."

"I thought you were terrified of your people?"

"Oh I am. Absolutely terrified. But if I'm the one who saves them, hopefully they'll forgive me for the... Err... Misdemeanour's I've caused."

Oblivious to the conversation at hand, Jenny suddenly piped in;

"Will these cables do?" she asked, carrying a coil of metal in each hand.

"Ah, of course. I had wondered where I left them. Perfect. Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Hook those up to the consoles will you, there's a good boy!" the Master said with a sly smile. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, but nevertheless obeyed. Amy appeared to be amused. As soon as the Doctor had disappeared into his TARDIS, she slipped up beside the Master.

"So, are you like, his boss or something? Is that why he calls you Master?"

The Master, who had already proven to be unbalanced, further asserted this trait by bursting into a fit of absolutely delirious laughter. Amy was pretty certain that she had never witnessed such unrestrained happiness. The Master, still beaming, partially regained his composure and nodded furiously at Amy.

"Yes, I am his boss. Notice how miserable he is right now? That's because he knows that he's no longer top dog, now that I'm around. And he hates it."

The Master turned to Jenny, still grinning insanely. "He always wants to be the centre of attention, your father does. Can't stand it when he's not. And when someone as fantastic as me is around, well, he's got no chance."

Amy was unnerved by the furious madness that had consumed the blonde man that stood before her on the utterance of one mere sentence. She felt relieved as the Doctor stepped out of his blue box. A mere moment after he had though, she felt disappointment set in as he pushed past her, dragging with him two lengths of metal cable.

"Right, the two of you hook those up to your consoles, I'm not doing everything for you. And I want to talk to Amy."

The Master rolled his eyes childishly and looked to Jenny.

"Suppose we should do as he says. Oh well," he turned and gave Amy a slightly creepy wink and wave. "See you later."

At that, the pair disappeared into their machines. The Doctor motioned for Rory to join he and Amy with a flick of the head.

"Listen. I'm going, quite honestly, to hell, and there is nothing in the universe that will convince me to endanger both of you by dragging you along to this. So please, Amy, Rory, wait here. Keep an eye on the Valeyard. No matter how long I'm gone, in relative time I should be back in five minutes."

"Oh no!" Amy shouted, frowning. "Oh no you don't. You said that back when I was a kid. Doctor, there is nothing in the universe that will convince me to stay while you run off to an exciting adventure, only to forget about me!"

Rory stepped forward and grasped his wife's hand tightly.

"And if she's going, I'm going. Going where, exactly?"

"Just like I said Rory, to hell. Look, someone needs to guard the Valeyard, he could get up to no end of mischief while I'm gone!"

"But if we'll only be gone _five_ minutes, where's the problem?" Amy said sarcastically, drawing emphasis on the word 'five'.

The Doctor raised a finger and opened his mouth, apparently preparing a retort. After several seconds, he exhaled loudly and lowered his hand.

"Fine, we take him along. We'll lock him in the TARDIS zero room. But I'm warning both of you Pond's, this is not going to be fun."

"Hell isn't supposed to be." Amy said quietly, tightening her grip on Rory's hand.

"I'm ready!" came the sound of a woman's voice from one of the machines.

"Me too!" came a male voice from the other.

"All right!" the Doctor yelled back, placing an arm around both of his companions. "Rory, you grab the Valeyard, and drag him inside, I'll just go set the co-ordinates."

Frowning as his wife and friend happily abandoned him, Rory stepped over beside the carcass of the man whom he hated most in the entire universe. Breathing heavily, he grabbed the Time Lord's ankles and began to pull, dragging the surprisingly heavy man across the cold floor.

Before he could reach the blue police box however, Rory heard a sound that for the first time in his life he actually dreaded.

The trio of TARDIS'es were taking off.

"No!" He bellowed, panic ringing out clearly in his voice as he ran over to the dematerialising time machine. It was already too late. He ran through the outline of the police box as if it was nothing, before tripping over the marble steps and landing hard on the ground.

The Doctor and his friends had abandoned him. And taken Amy with them.


	25. Chapter 25

As he lay flat on the floor, sobbing gently, Rory suddenly felt his spirits lifted as he heard, mere seconds after the disappearance of the TARDIS, the sound of one landing.

Ignoring the dull ache in his arm, he pushed himself upright only to see two boxes gradually phasing into existence.

Neither was blue.

His mouth gaping, clutching his injured arm, he stepped forward, just as the machines completed their materialisation. The door of both swung open simultaneously and the blonde woman and blonde man stepped out of their respective ships, both positively beaming. Their smiles faded however as they realised they were not alone in the throne room.

The blonde man gave Rory an odd look.

"Ah," he said simply. "You are here. How?"

Though it was a question, it appeared not to actually be addressed to the present human. Instead, it was seemingly a mere musing of the Master as he looked Rory up and down, appearing vaguely confused by the physical existence of the man.

"Where's Amy?" Rory asked cautiously, his body instinctively tense. "And the Doctor?"

The blonde man and the woman exchanged an awkward glance. Rory inhaled deeply and held his breath within him. The smile on the face of the blonde man disappeared in a flash.

"I'm sorry," he said, quite simply, genuine sadness in his voice. "They were claimed by the horrors of the Time War, there was nothing we could do."

It took Rory a moment to digest this. Slowly, he exhaled.

"You mean that they are both dead, and you just saunter out of your little box with a great big smile on your face?" he growled, baring his teeth.

Breathing heavily, Rory slowly became to walk towards the Master, his chest rising and falling as he tried to hold back the tears and let out his anger.

"And what about the great mission? Where are the wonderful Time Lords? Did Amy die for nothing? _Did she?"_

"I did what I bloody well could!" the Master shouted in retort, the veins on his neck becoming quite visible in his fury. His fists clenched, he pushed himself literally head to head with the human. Both men seemed quite surprised when Jenny pulled them apart.

"Look Rory, isn't it? You lost your wife. I lost my father. He lost his oldest and dearest friend. Fighting will solve nothing here. Rory, you go sit on the steps and calm yourself down. Master, you set the co-ordinates of the TARDIS for earth. We can't bring Amy back, but we can at least get you home."

The Master, despite himself, smiled. He loved it when people used his name. Rory grimaced as he caught the movement. Eyes narrowed, he stared intently at Jenny as the Master slipped inside the silver box.

"Going home won't solve anything." Rory said sadly, feeling the rage give way to pain.

Jenny simply nodded and took his hand.

Inside the Masters TARDIS, the scene was quite different. The Time Lord bounded across the room, jokingly waltzing with himself, humming a popular tune he had heard back on Earth in his day as Mr. Saxon.

In high spirits, he flicked a few controls on the console and felt his grin widen as an image of Amy and the Doctor appeared on the TARDIS viewing screen.

"Master! We need your help!" the Doctor cried. Sparks flew behind him as the TARDIS machinery exploded brightly. "Temporal displacement, we're spiralling into the last days of the Time War, not the first!"

The Master boomed with laughter.

"Indeed. Just as I intended."

A look of horror crept onto the Doctors face. His eyes widened.

"What?"

"Come now Doctor, surely you must understand now what is going on? No... I suppose you are still far too blinded by your undying optimism to notice what is going on right in front of your big nose. Mind you, your nose really isn't as big as it was back when you were exiled on Earth, but that's just me digressing. I'm betraying you. I never intended us to rescue the Time Lords at all! Why would I? They would just try to kill us again."

The Master threw his head back and laughed.

"I travelled with Jenny, your _daughter, _decades. I showed her the wonders of the universe, I showed her what her birthright entitled her to claim. And she was enthralled. She was mine. I told her all my plans and she agreed to them. New Gallifrey will rise in the heavens with me as the supreme Lord and Master, your daughter as my Queen. Our children, Doctor, will become the new Time Lords. She's pregnant right now, actually. Sorry, probably should have said something."

His eyes betraying nothing but madness, the Master threw his head back and burst into a fit of insane laughter. He felt an intense surge of power as he spoke the next sentence; "I will become the father of Time Lord society, and its rules will be mine to dictate!"

"Master, you can't! Please!"

"I don't see why you're so offended, Doctor. After all, you will be remembered. The grandfather of society. The stuffy old bugger who tried to hold back progress. You will be reviled Doctor, and I will be revered."

"Think about what you're doing for one minute! The stupidity of it all!"

"Oh shut up you old fool." the Master said irritably, flicking off the monitor. Bouncing with glee, he slipped his laser screwdriver out of his pocket and happily skipped out the TARDIS door. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he stepped into the grand hall once more. Nodding at Jenny briefly, he then turned his attention to the scowling human that stared at him with pure hatred in his eyes.

Unfased, the Master observed Rory Williams with a brief look of disinterest before raising the screwdriver and shooting him square in the head.


End file.
